Neighbours in Lawn Chairs
Campground neighbours are strangers for exactly one wave.
You pull in slowly. They look up from their lawn chairs. You nod. They nod back.
By evening, you know the dog’s name.
By morning, you’ve lent them the good lantern.
By checkout, you’re trading the best route home.
It is the oldest, simplest kind of friendship: no phone numbers, no plans, no history.
- a borrowed corkscrew
- a story about the road
- a tip for tomorrow’s campsite
- a spare roll of paper towel
Most of us will never meet again. We’ll remember each other anyway.
Wave first. Then see what happens next.
