The Wall

Jules walked to school. Jules walked back from school. Everyday the same. Everyday the wall. Jules knew little about the wall, except that it was tall and gray and that he passed it everyday. Sometimes he wondered what was on the other side; sometimes he did not. As far as he knew there was no way to get to the other side — though he did vaguely remember seeing a door once. But he did not recall exactly where — and on the few occasions that he had tried, no matter how hard he had looked, he could not find it. And so it went. Everyday Jules walked to school. Everyday Jules walked back from school. Everyday he passed the wall.

Jules was often with his friends. They cared little for the wall They preferred to pass shops or homes — those had windows to peer through. What use is a wall? Best to hurry on and ignore it. But Jules liked the wall. He thought of it as my wall — as a special friend of some sort. He never told the others this. They would much rather speak of other things. So Jules began to speak to the wall. Every time he passed he said, Hello, and, Goodbye, as well as many other things that children are apt to say to their friends. The wall never replied — or at least Jules never heard it.

At school Jules learned many things: about the plants and animals, about the earth and sky, about numbers and books, about other people. What Jules never learned was that behind the wall lies an empty field. But he is still looking for that lost door.