The Wall
Everyone hits a wall from time to time. Curse the wall! Kick the wall! It is a wall, after all. It’s holding me back, we yell. How many times I have hit this wall, which could be the same one, or many, I cannot tell. The masonry is familiar. I bet you’ve seen it, too. Little we have thought that walls do not appear all by themselves. I forget that there is a purpose behind this wall, these walls, your wall, my wall. I remember that it is possible someone builds them intentionally in my way, in a prescribed, thoughtful sort of way. Every stone carefully laid for my stumbling over, or is it to keep me from stumbling further? I’m not that sure. In fact, I’m pretty sure now of one thing: that someone built this wall and sweated and bled over it.
