Without a Friend, There Are Only Islands

Neighbors are ever-smiling portraits in a frame with just the right amount of polish at its edges, whereas friends are letters of adventure and memory resting behind it--always knowing that you'll be the first one to read their pages. Neighbors offer you a glass of lemonade on a hot day, while friends suggest that we make our own for the sport of it and gulp down the entire pitcher. Neighbors, when trapped in a massive flood, never hesitate to climb the ladder of a helicopter--but friends will stop to grab your hand and keep you steady. In competitions, neighbors excel at Christmas decorating, but friends leave you a box of spare lights before vowing to win first place. When waving hello, neighbors are light and brief like dewdrops in a breeze, whereas friends are jumpy and bounding like a puppy in grass. Neighbors keep to themselves unless they ask you for a pint of milk, but friends throw pebbles at your living room window and ask you how to bake a cake--they would even let you lick the bowl clean. Neighbors will offer their umbrella if yours is broken; friends will scoop a handful of sunshine and save it for later, in case you ever get caught in the rain. Neighbors excuse themselves when they hiccup over the dinner table, yet friends will burp a crescendo and laugh at the spinach in your teeth. Friends hold only their side of the argument, but will forget to clutch their anger a week after; neighbors demand you to return their lawnmower and will tell other neighbors about your darkest hour. On Saturday nights, neighbors like to blast the radio with music surging through the walls, but friends will pause the stereo and ask if you want to hear your favorite song. Friends wish they can live closer to you someday, neighbors will stay as neighbors until they need to move away.


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