Faces

There is a quarter mile that I walk several times each day between the main building and the medical shack. Along the trail there is a high concrete wall, and on the concrete wall are two faces. They hang there like masks outside a theater.

Other people say they can’t see the faces. They are only randomly thrown trowel marks. But to me the faces are obvious. The one on the right is kind. He seems pleasant, old, and wise. As I walk along, he tells me I am doing fine here. Time is passing quickly, this place isn’t so bad, and I am very fortunate to be having this experience.

The one on the left is sour, pessimistic – a little grumpy. He tells me I’m far away from home, and my kids are growing up without me. It’s hot. I’m working really hard and not making much of a difference.

I often have a conversation with one or the other as I pass.

Last week I spoke a lot to the one on the left. He was listening when I had to call someone’s wife. I had to tell her that I had been wrong. The headaches that started almost three months ago were not from dehydration. His fatigue was not from depression. I had to tell her we did not have a CT scanner, so we didn’t know about the brain tumor until he collapsed and was sent on a quick helicopter to some place that did. The face on the left stuck out more after that call. He told me that phone call was the hardest I had ever made, and the costs of war are greater than the news ever reports. The one on the right tried to cheer me up. He told me that I had tried my best for the husband of that wife on the phone.

The one on the right also cheered me up with other things. He encouraged me as I stayed up late one last time completing my dissertation. He whispered congratulations. He told me that I will get to spend more time with my family now that I don’t have classes to do after work. I won’t have to cancel weekend trips anymore to finish papers. I won’t have to spend half of my vacation time searching for internet access. The one on the left said it was silly to think that life will suddenly get better just because I don’t have any more online classes

Once as I walked by, I tried to ignore the grumpy face. I said I didn’t want to talk to him. Last week I learned to listen to both – I hear them both. They are both wise in their own way. They are both important for life. And, the two faces on the wall need each other, just like joy needs sorrow, happy needs sad, and accomplishment needs defeat. A theater with only one hanging mask would be missing half of its soul.

I’m glad I can see the faces drawn by an unknowing trowel. There is a lot that they have to say during a quarter mile walk, and I seem to be in a good spot to listen.