两位重病人住在病人住在同一个病房里。有一个人每天被允许坐起来一个小时，以便有利于排除肺里的水。他的床紧邻着屋里唯一的窗户。另外一个人不得不每天平躺在床上。两个人能连续聊上几个小时，他们谈到过他们的妻子、家人、家庭琐事、工作、有关军训的一些事情和他们度假去过的地方。
每天下午，当邻窗的那个人可以坐起来的时候，他就用向他的病友描绘窗外的景物的方式来度过那段时间。
因为外面世界的活力与色彩，另外一个床上的病人的这一个小时的生活也会视野开阔、充满生机。
窗外是座花园，里面有个美丽的湖泊，鸭子和天鹅在湖面上戏水，孩子们在玩轮船模型，年轻的恋人们手挽着手走在色彩缤纷的花丛中，参天古树点缀出优雅的景色，远处美丽的城市轮廓依稀可见。邻窗病人的非常细致地描绘这一切，他对面的那个人就会闭上眼睛，想象着那景色。
一个温暖的下午，临窗的那个人说起了路过的游行队伍，尽管另外一个人听不到乐队的声音，通过邻窗那个人的描述他能想象得出。
数日、数周过去了。一天早晨，护士端来了洗脸水，却发现邻窗的那个人停止了呼吸，他在睡觉时安静地死去了。护士很难过，她叫来了医院的护工，运走了他的尸体。
有了合适的机会，另外一个人就问，他是否能搬到窗户旁边去，护士高兴地为他换了床，看到他已感到很舒适之后，她独自走开了。他想看一眼外面的世界，慢慢地、痛苦地，他用胳膊肘撑住身体，终于，他可以愉快地亲自去看了，他努力慢慢地转过身望向了床边的窗外。
窗户面对着一堵光秃秃的墙。她问护士，是什么驱使他死去的室友把窗外的景物描绘得那么美丽，护士回答，那个人是个盲人，他甚至连墙也看不到，她说，“或许他仅仅是想鼓励你。”
尾声…不管你的境遇如何，给别人带来快乐，都是一件无比幸福的事情。有人分担，忧伤减半，有人同享，快乐成双。如果你想变得富有，就把你用金钱买不到的东西的价值也计算在内吧。
“有时为了面对未来，你不得不放弃过去。”
Learn To Listen
At the prodding of my friends， I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from DeMoines， Iowa. I’ve always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons--something I‘ve done for over 30 years.
Over the years， I found that children have many levels of musical ability. I’ve never had the pleasure of having a protege though I have taught some talented students. However I‘ve also had my share of what I call “musically challenged” pupils. One such student was Robby. Robby was 11 years old when his mother （a single mom） dropped him off for his first piano lesson.
I prefer that students （especially boys！） begin at an earlier age， which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother’s dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student. Well， Robby began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried， he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.
Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he‘d always say， “My mom’s going to hear me play some day.” But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in. Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed， because of his lack of ability， that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching！
Several weeks later I mailed to the student’s homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby （who received a flyer） asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify.
He said that his mom had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing. “Miss Hondorf...I‘ve just got to play！” he insisted. I don’t know what led me to allow him to play in the recital.
Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be alright.
The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents， friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my “curtain closer.”
Well the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he‘ run an egg-beater through it.
“Why didn’t he dress up like the other students？” I thought. “Why didn‘t his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night？”
Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart’s Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys， they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo...from allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent！ Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people his age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause. Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. “I‘ve never heard you play like that Robby！
“How’d you do it？” Through the microphone Robby explained： “Well Miss Hondorf...remember I told you my mom was sick？ Well actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And， well....she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special.” There wasn‘t a dry eye in the house that evening.
As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care， I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil. No， I’ve never had a protege but that night I became a protege...of Robby’s. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he that taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don‘t know why. This is especially meaningful to me since after serving in Desert Storm Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995， where he was reportedly....playing the piano.
