|
|
The Window
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man
was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids
from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other
man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and
families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military
service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the
man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time
by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the
window.
The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where
his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and
color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely
lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while
children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid
flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the
landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the
distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite
detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and
imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.
Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his
mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive
words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should he
have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see
anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt
ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more
sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He
began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that
window - and that thought now controlled his life.
Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window
began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man
watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window
groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room,
he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought
the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking
stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only
silence--deathly silence.
The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their
baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she
was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no
words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he
could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the
switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his
first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself.
He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It
faced a blank wall.
Moral of the story:
The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice...it is a positive
attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets
delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the
window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part
of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will
never find lasting joy.
|