真正的鄰居

Getting out of my car one evening in late January， I met my neighbor Theresa， who had seen me drive in. “Mrs. Taylor is in the hospital again，” she said. “I thought you’d like to know.” I had last seen Mrs. Taylor a day or two before Christmas when I took her a little loaf of pumpkin bread， and she came from the back room in her wheel chair to talk with me. Mrs. Taylor and I had been neighbors for 17 years. I remember the dog she and her husband used to have. They called him Beau. He greeted everyone who walked by， and Mr. Taylor loved him.

Most of my conversations with Mrs. Taylor had been incidental—1）impromptu visits by the mailbox， running into one another at the gas station where she helped me put air in my tire， quiet talks at the funeral home where we went to honor the memory of a mutual friend.

When my husband and I moved here with our four rowdy， laughing offspring， it must have seemed as if the peaceful quiet of the neighborhood had been forever shattered. We had little in common with the mostly elderly folks on our street. But they welcomed us warmly. Over the years they helped us love our children， picking them up when a bicycle overturned and sending the kids cards for their graduation. We have enjoyed the comfort of living beside people who help us if our tree falls on the fence and feed the cat when we’re away.

2）Robert Frost had a neighbor who insisted that“good fences make good neighbors，” but Frost was convinced that there is something “that doesn’t love a wall/That wants it down.” I agree with the poet. I believe that “something” that he talked about lives inside of me， too.

I want to break down the walls of loneliness that go up when we glide quietly into our garages and put down the door. Taking the fastest route to my back porch may be more efficient than 3）meandering through the yard， but it leaves little room for interaction. When I was a child， I used to sit on the porch with my mother in the fading light and wave to neighbors out for an evening walk or drive. I learned in those days the joy of sharing—sharing seeds， sharing stories， sharing life.

Mrs. Taylor did not survive her latest set-back. Once again I walked into the funeral home to say good-bye to a neighbor. I remembered the barking dog， the chats by the mailbox， the friendly wave across the fence. I remembered， and I was sad， but I had no regrets. Now there is a new family moving into the Taylor place. I see children’s toys in the yard. It’s time to take a walk.一月下旬的一個晚上，我從車子上走下來，遇到了我的鄰

居特蕾莎，她看到我把車子駛進來。“泰勒太太又住院了，”她說道，“我覺得你會想知道這個消息的。”我上一次見到泰勒太太是在圣誕前的一兩天，當時我給她送去一小塊南瓜面包，她坐在輪椅上從里屋出來和我說話。泰勒太太與我為鄰17個年頭了。我記得她和丈夫以前養的那條狗。他們叫他“花花公子”。他會跟每個過路的人打招呼，泰勒先生很寵愛他。

我與泰勒太太的大多數對話都是偶然發生的——在信箱旁的偶然碰面，在加油站時的偶遇——她幫我為輪胎打氣，還有，我們在殯儀館悼念一位共同的朋友時的低聲交談。

當我和丈夫帶著四個吵吵鬧鬧、嘻嘻哈哈的孩子搬到這里時，這片鄰里的平靜安寧看上去一定像是被永遠打破了。我們與街上大多數年事已高的居民沒什么共同之處。但他們熱情地歡迎我們的到來。這些年來，鄰居們跟我倆一起疼愛著我們的孩子，當他們騎車摔倒時，把他們扶起來，在他們畢業時，給他們寄賀卡。要是我們家的樹倒在籬笆上了，他們施以援手，當我們不在家時，他們幫我們喂貓，有這么一群鄰居，我們感覺非常舒心。

羅伯特·弗羅斯特有一位鄰居，他堅持認為“籬笆筑得牢，鄰居處得好”，但弗羅斯特確信，某些東西“不愿墻壁阻擋，希望打破隔閡”。我同意這位詩人的看法。我堅信他所說的“某些東西”同樣住在我的身體之中。

我希望摧毀那些當我們靜悄悄地駛入車庫時筑起的孤獨之墻，并且把門放倒。……