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(gè)晚上，我從車子上走下來(lái)，遇到了我的鄰

居特蕾莎，她看到我把車子駛進(jìn)來(lái)?！疤├仗肿≡毫?，”她說(shuō)道，“我覺(jué)得你會(huì)想知道這個(gè)消息的?！蔽疑弦淮我?jiàn)到泰勒太太是在圣誕前的一兩天，當(dāng)時(shí)我給她送去一小塊南瓜面包，她坐在輪椅上從里屋出來(lái)和我說(shuō)話。泰勒太太與我為鄰17個(gè)年頭了。我記得她和丈夫以前養(yǎng)的那條狗。他們叫他“花花公子”。他會(huì)跟每個(gè)過(guò)路的人打招呼，泰勒先生很寵愛(ài)他。

我與泰勒太太的大多數(shù)對(duì)話都是偶然發(fā)生的——在信箱旁的偶然碰面，在加油站時(shí)的偶遇——她幫我為輪胎打氣，還有，我們?cè)跉泝x館悼念一位共同的朋友時(shí)的低聲交談。

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

羅伯特·弗羅斯特有一位鄰居，他堅(jiān)持認(rèn)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(shī)人的看法。我堅(jiān)信他所說(shuō)的“某些東西”同樣住在我的身體之中。

我希望摧毀那些當(dāng)我們靜悄悄地駛?cè)胲噹?kù)時(shí)筑起的孤獨(dú)之墻，并且把門(mén)放倒。走捷徑到我家的后廊可能比蜿蜒穿行院子更快捷，但卻失去了和別人交流的機(jī)會(huì)。在我小時(shí)候，我常常和媽媽在昏弱的光線下坐在門(mén)廊上，向晚上出門(mén)走走或者開(kāi)車轉(zhuǎn)轉(zhuǎn)的鄰居們招手。我在這些日子里懂得了分享的樂(lè)趣——分享種子，分享故事，分享人生。

泰勒太太沒(méi)能跨過(guò)最后這道坎。又一次，我走進(jìn)殯儀館跟一位鄰居道別。我記得那條吠叫的狗，在信箱旁的對(duì)話，在籬笆對(duì)面友善的招手。我記得，我也很悲傷，但我沒(méi)有什么遺憾。如今，有一戶新的人家搬進(jìn)了泰勒家原來(lái)的房子。我看到了院子里小孩子的玩具。是時(shí)候去走一趟了。