Window(s)

The dull grey walls complimented her feelings of despair, boxing in both her physical and mental states in constant dreariness. Thank goodness for the window.

The only other opening in that room was a door on the other end, which could hardly be called an “opening” for it was barely opened. Except for the several people who come through it every day, bearing daily doses of assorted medication. Medication that in her opinion, brought close to no benefit whatsoever, compared to the windows’ daily dose of hope.

The people that came through the door were as sterile as the room. Grey outfits, vacant expressions, and an inability to smile crushed any temptations she had about escaping through it. It was the Times New Roman of living. Dull, neat, functional, and nothing more. What could the walls of this vicinity possibly extend to? More grey vacant expressions and tasteless food? No thanks. Or at least that’s what she comforted herself with after attempting an escape once only to find it locked.

So that’s how the window became an interesting feature. Its’ bright and colourful scenes contrasting against the room’s sterile colour scheme was a breath of fresh air. It reminded her there’s a world outside waiting for her. A different world. Active and alive unlike the lifeless room she was in. Oddly, it was also this room that opened her eyes to what she once was.

A control freak: she needed to know everything and anything that was going to happen. The “shuffle” feature on a playlist was inconceivable to her, watches and clocks were as necessary as oxygen (she even had alarms set for taking out the recycling, because if she missed the truck, the rain might melt the cardboard boxes and litter the pavement) Nobody else could be trusted to remember anything. Every second of her day was planned with precision, including the “Plan Bs”. An example being if it rained on a day she planned to swim. Not a minute of her schedule allowed for change, everything ran according to her plans A, B and sometimes even C.

This is why she couldn’t understand how this rhythm of repetition seemed to be killing her instead of soothing her. Waking up to the grey wallpaper, meals served like clockwork, same meals, same bed, this was her dream schedule! The reason, of course, was because she wasn’t the one in control. The truth is, she never was. Control is an illusion we create for ourselves. We think we’re in control when we drive because we have the steering wheel in our hands and foot on the pedal. We don’t think about is whether the other drivers are playing by the rules too, or whether the roads built will hold. We think we’re in control, but really, we’re not. Not completely at least. What’s really happening is we choose to see only what we want because that’s familiar, predictable, known. So, we choose that view.

It’s in this room she was forced to face her fear of the unknown and in doing so, realized the “unknown” is not as scary as it seemed. The window being her only source of entertainment, allowed her to experience this completely in this room. The only thing consistent through this window was change. It was always there, in the same spot, every day, every moment, but what she’d see through it changed regularly. As opposed to this room, where the only change was the daily accumulation of dust on the floor. The window was different. She did nothing. Yet, she was blessed with a surprise each moment.

A leaf would fall, the grass would grow, flowers bloomed and died, leaves dried out and fell, new ones would form, birds came and went, ripples in the pond danced to a different rhythm, depending on the breeze. Even the ants had different items with them each day as they marched along, their paths often varying too. She never realized the endless shades of green in the world till now. This window revealed so clearly, all the little changes one would normally miss when you’re so occupied with making everything the same. Now, the tables had turned. Change was to her, the single most beautiful thing this world had to offer.

Having nothing else to do, she found herself being acquainted with each life form rather intimately. The stems of leaves started to look more like spines, petals of flowers formed features of a face, each one unique like humans, some with bigger noses than others, various sizes of eyes. The ripples in the pond shaped themselves animatedly depending on the wind and objects that made passage through it. She watched caterpillars get eaten, while some went on to become butterflies. All the while, through this window. One day, a sunflower rode the breeze right up to her window, it was so close she couldn’t help but reached out and touched it, surprised to find that she could actually feel it. Smell it. Before she knew it, the stem was in her fingers.

Then she heard the ripples, her hair tickled her face, the sun warmed her skin, and she was outside the room, looking back at those grey walls with the boring bed and hideous bedsheets.

Something inside her felt she ought to go back and notify someone of her absence because it was a polite and courteous thing to do.

Before she took a step though, someone showed up. Something. A tree! But etched into its bark were eyes and noses (yes, plural), at least five pairs of hands, and strange horn-like structures where fruits or flowers might have hung.

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you”

“Why not?”, she said

“It’s not necessary”, the tree answered.

The tree brightened and shone even more than it did a few moments ago. And she was really blown away this time, quite literally. Straight into a bed of roses.

“You’re going to kill me, stupid tree! The thorns could have pierced me to death!”, she screamed as she carefully unravelled herself out of the bush.

“Yes, that’s one possible way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I do sometimes have more dramatic entrances, but not today.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“I’m death, and I’ve come to collect you.”

“I’m DEAD!?”

“Yes. You suffered minimally from an illness, hence were in that room.”

It was all so overwhelming; she didn’t know which feeling to start expressing first. It felt as though every emotion consumed her entire body. Sadness in her heart, fear in her eyes, shock in her mind, the pain just about everywhere and maybe just a tiny bit of relief in her big toe.

Death was used to this by now. People tend not to go willingly with him. You get the odd few who welcome him gracefully, but most people greet him with a whole range of emotions, often negative. He never could understand why he needed to educate human beings time and time again, on a topic as certain, known, and inevitable. Your best friend might not show up in your hour of need, even cancer might skip past smokers if they’re lucky, but not death. Death will come knocking on your door no matter what. Death, much like love, does not judge or discriminate.

That was the part of Death’s role in this universe he found tedious. Having to educate humans on what he thought they already knew, repeatedly. Some might say he had the most dead-end job in the world.

“HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU TAKE ME AWAY! HOW DARE YOU NOT GIVE ME ANY WARNING!”

And so, death began first with an apology for this ending but explained that if she were to simply trust him, she’ll soon come to see that this is not the end or even an end. It’s merely a continuation, a new chapter if you like, to which he will guide her through.

As she calmed down and looked at his smiling face, she felt a wave of knowing surface, gently washing away all other emotions. Despite the unknown destination with this enigmatic figure, an unspoken comfort assured her that somehow, it’s safe. Wherever they were, fear and doubt did not exist.

“Where to?”, she asked, as she dusted herself off.

Death smiled, took her hand, and said,

“Through the window.”