An old man who has lost his way wanders about, in search of his way and his home. Along the way, he meets an old woman who, in her own way, is also lost. "Old woman, I have lost my way," the old man tells the woman.
"I too have lost my way," the old woman says. "But tell me, old man, have you not lost something else?"
The old man thinks for a moment and then begins to cry. "Yes," he says, "I have lost something else. I have lost a wife."
"Now isn't that a coincidence!" the old woman says. "I am a lost wife. Perhaps we two are lost together."
"Perhaps we have found each other," the old man suggests.
"Perhaps," they say in unison, and together they go in search of their home.
"Not this one," says he.
"Not this one," says she.
They say this of many homes, but not this one. This one, they agree, is their home, as they enter the house, front door unlocked and ajar. And in the living room sits an old woman who says, "Husband, you have returned. But who is this woman?"
The Same Thing
He couldn't see what she was seeing, yet they were looking at the same thing. She couldn't see how he couldn't see what she was seeing, when they were looking at the same thing. "Are you looking at the same thing that I'm looking at?" she asked him.
"Yes," he said.
"Do you see what I see?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said. "What do you see?"
"I see what you don't see," she said angrily.
"Then I guess I don't see what you're seeing," he replied.
There -- he admitted it -- he couldn't see what she was seeing. Nothing changes, she told herself. You live with a man for twenty-five years and nothing changes.