Mindset story: What do you see through your window

In a quiet hospital room, two men lay side by side, both seriously ill. Mark, the older of the two, was fortunate enough to have a bed near the only window in the room. Due to his condition, he was allowed to sit up for an hour each afternoon to help drain fluid from his lungs. His roommate, Joe, was not as lucky as he was confined to lying flat on his back at all times. Despite their ailments, the two men quickly formed a strong bond. They shared stories about their pasts such as memories of childhood, their families, their work, and the experiences that had shaped them. For Joe, who could not move much, these conversations became a source of comfort and escape from the monotony of hospital life. One day, Joe admitted to Mark that he envied his position by the window. He longed to see what lay beyond the walls of their sterile hospital room. Sensing his friend’s longing, Mark decided to share the world outside with Joe, not through sight, but through words. Each afternoon, when Mark was allowed to sit up, he would describe what he saw beyond the window. “It’s a beautiful day today,” he would say. “The sun is shining over the park, and there’s a gentle breeze making the leaves sway. There’s a little lake, and ducks are playing in the water while children sail their toy boats. Couples walk hand in hand, and families spread out blankets for picnics under the shade of the trees.” Joe closed his eyes and listened intently. Though he couldn’t see it, he could picture it perfectly in his mind. Day after day, Mark continued to describe the outside world. When the rain came, he spoke of children splashing in puddles, their laughter ringing through the park. When the city lit up at night, he described the skyline glowing against the dark sky. On special days, like during a festival, he spoke of parades with colorful floats and music filling the streets.

Joe began to live for those moments. In his mind, he traveled beyond the confines of his hospital bed, experiencing the joys of the outside world through Mark’s descriptions. Weeks passed, then months. Then one morning, a nurse entered the room and found Mark lying still. He had passed away peacefully in his sleep. Joe was devastated. He had lost not just a friend, but the one person who had made his days brighter. The hospital attendants came and gently carried Mark away. As the grief settled in, Joe realized just how much he would miss hearing about the world outside. He longed to see it for himself, to witness the beauty that Mark had painted in his mind for so long. Summoning all his strength, he asked the nurse if he could be moved to the bed by the window. She smiled at his request, pleased to see him motivated to sit up and look outside. Carefully, she helped shift him to his new bed. As soon as he was comfortable, Joe gathered his energy, pushed himself up with great effort, and turned his head to look out of the window. But what he saw made his breath catch in his throat. There was no park. No lake. No children playing or lovers strolling. There was only a blank wall. Joe stared at it in disbelief. Had the view changed? Was there once something beautiful beyond this window? Had the hospital built a wall here recently? Confused and heartbroken, he turned to the nurse and asked, “Where is the park? The lake? The parades and the city lights? Mark told me about all of them so vividly. Why would he lie to me?” The nurse looked at him with gentle eyes and said softly, “Your roommate was blind, Joe. He couldn’t see anything outside.” Joe was stunned. His mind raced as he tried to make sense of it all. The nurse continued, “He must have known how much you needed hope, how much you longed for something beyond this room. So he gave you a world, even if it wasn’t real to him. He gave you something beautiful to hold onto.” Joe felt a lump rise in his throat. Mark had not lied, he had gifted him something far greater than the truth. He had given him hope, a reason to look forward to each day, a world beyond his pain and suffering. Lying back down, Joe closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled. The world Mark had painted for him was still there, not outside the window, but inside his heart. And he realized that sometimes, the greatest kindness comes not from what we see, but from what we choose to make others see.