It was April. The sky was cloudy, the air muggy, but most importantly, the grass was too long. I fetched my rusty lawnmower from the garage, went around to the backyard, and got ready to start the job when I heard it. My neighbor, taking no notice of me, fired up his driving lawn mower, set a big joyful smile on his face, and got to work. His giant lawn was almost completely shrouded by the shadow of his amazing house. I felt small. Discouraged. I felt that he was better, bigger than me. Not that he himself was bigger than me, but his lawnmower certainly was, and that was all it took. I thought about how everyone on the block would judge me with my lawnmower that I had to push compared with my neighbor’s driving one. Concluding that I would just cut the grass another day, I put the mower back into the garage and went inside with my head bent low.

July rolled around, and the sky was bright, the air humid, the grass long and untidy, but most importantly, it was hot. I thought about a pool for my wife and kids. As I was researching the prices of inflatable pools at the local store, my neighbor caught my ear. He pulled the tarp off of his in-ground pool, and shortly after, he, along with his family, jumped in with flair. Splash, Splash, Splash. They raced each other to each end of the pool, arguing all the time about who won. I wished I had the same. Once again, I was greatly discouraged. I closed my laptop. I thought about how ridiculous an inflatable would look next to an in-ground. Furthermore, I thought about how everyone would judge me with my cheap pool compared with my neighbor’s luxurious one. The kids and I can just have water fights with the hose, I concluded.

October came, and the sky was dim, the air light, the grass ugly, the house permeated with complaints of a wasted summer, but most importantly, the lawn was strewn with leaves. I fetched a rake from the garage to clear the lawn when a strange thought occurred to me: even when the leaves are cleared, the uncut grass will leave yet another job that I have not had the courage to do for half a year. After seeing my neighbor’s amazing lawnmower back in spring, the single thought of someone seeing me with mine bound me to my chair whenever I considered finally cutting the grass. After deciding the leaves needed to be dealt with anyway, a deafening sound filled the air: my neighbor’s leaf blower. The sight corrupted my eyes and brain. People looking out their windows or walking by would surely pity me with my rake, I thought. I knew I couldn’t stand it if someone noticed how slow my leaves were going compared with my neighbor’s. So, retracing my steps around the house, I set my rake back into its spot, hoping for the wind to substitute.

December was here at last, and the sky was pale, the air violent, the grass long and dormant, the house still poisoned by regrets of a missed opportunity in summer, the wind angry for my laziness a couple months ago, but most importantly, it was time for Christmas decorations. I went to the store to buy a couple strands of lights, all I could afford, and came back home to a devastating sight, oh lord. My neighbor had just finished putting up his Christmas decorations, which consisted of not only abundant and beautiful lights but also inflatables. How pathetic my house would look next to this, I thought. I resorted to putting nothing up, for if any comparison would be made by the neighborhood, it would be this one. Then a worse thought came to my mind: my house with no Christmas lights! I fantasized myself into believing that maybe, just maybe, people would believe I was gone for the holidays.

When New Year’s Eve was upon me, I decided to commit to a resolution. A simple one, at that. I decided that I would stop comparing myself with my neighbor. I thought it was unhealthy and hey, why not give it a try?

Spring came again and there he was, driving his lawn mower and efficiently cleaning up his grass. Immediately, jealousy flooded over me, and I felt sorry for myself that I had to endure the process of cutting my grass with my lousy mower. But I caught myself. I remembered my resolution.

So I stopped thinking about my neighbor and simply got out my lawn mower. I strategized my approach to the project and concluded I would cut my lawn in a pattern like the ones with lighter and darker stripes of grass.

Well, once I was done, I was fascinated by my work. My backyard had a beautiful look to it with alternating shades of grass. Someone in a helicopter flying over my house would think it was professionally done, I thought. Also, to my utter shock, my neighbor said, “that looks amazing, can you do mine like that?” And I did. He proceeded to invite me in for a drink after and we even talked about starting a lawn business together. By the end of the day, our backyards looked identical. We were both happy.

Of course, summer came again and there they were next door, my neighbor and his family splashing around in the amazing in-ground pool. I actually felt happy for them. After I helped with their lawn back in spring, they invited my family and me over for dinner that night. We all bonded in a way I never thought possible, and all it took was my neighbor to ask for help. Extraordinary, I thought. So, since I knew the family a little better, I no longer felt bitter about their joy. I felt happy. But, of course, it was hot, and I wanted to do something with my family. I was thinking about what to buy: a pool, slip ‘n slide, tickets to a water park, and then the idea struck me. We can use the hose!

I got everyone in the backyard and just started spraying them. We gave each person about a five-minute time limit with the hose to spray whoever they wanted. Having so much fun, everyone had the hose at least three times, and we spent two hours out there.

Later that night, we all had a great dinner, and everyone exclaimed how happy they felt that we took advantage of the hot weather. It was one of the best days of my life.

October came again, and so the leaves flooded my yard. Of course, there my neighbor was, blowing all of his leaves away without a care in the world. I felt happy for his ease in dealing with the leaves.

Back in the summer, he’d invited my family and me to swim in his pool. It eventually became a consistent thing, and we were there almost every day. So, at this point, I felt he deserved such ease.

I knew someone had to do my yard, and that person had to be me. It wasn’t such a harsh thought to go and pick up the rake, though. I thought about my success during the previous two seasons. It motivated me to keep going.

I fetched my rake. Though I knew it would take me a while to clear the leaves, I was unbothered. I actually decided to see the light of the situation. With my rake I could control where the leaves went with precision. With my rake I could enjoy the peace of October nature. I was able to listen to the chirping of the birds, the rustling of the leaves, and the creaking of the branches. It was therapeutic. I enjoyed the process. Once I was done, I went to return my rake when my neighbor told me how neat my yard looked.

It was December once again and things were jolly. My neighbor had a crew putting lights on the highest peaks and precipices of his house. He and his family were laughing while trying to put up their giant inflatables. I was happy for them. Having spent so much time with them this year, I knew they were a great family and deserved such happiness.

I knew I had to put up decorations. Not had to, I wanted to. I checked the garage and found the strands of lights I’d bought last year. Money was tight at the moment because of all the Christmas shopping, so I couldn’t buy any more decorations. This didn’t phase me, though, because I knew I could make do with what I had. In fact, I was excited to do as much as I could with just these few strands of lights.

A couple of trees reside in my front yard. I used them for my lights, carefully applying each strand to make it look as neat as possible. I was proud of the result, and my family even praised me for my good work.

We were watching a Christmas movie when the front doorbell rang later that night. It was my neighbor. He told us that he noticed our small amount of lights and offered to help with the extra lights he had.

Our family and theirs worked together to cover the remaining shrubs with lights and reach the highest points of the house that a ladder would allow. When we were done, my property looked marvelous.

Well, afterward, we all went inside my house and watched a movie with hot chocolate. It was odd because it was the first time I had spent a holiday with folks other than family. I was happy, though. Content. I knew these people were my friends and would always be here for me. Furthermore, I knew next year would be even better because I knew not to compare.

Previously published in Thread Magazine, volume 18, spring 2023.

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Alex Hallam is eighteen years old and currently studies English at the University of South Florida. He has recently started to take writing seriously and has not looked back since. He is determined to get his work out there. He currently loves to write material that represents philosophical principles that he believes can help people overcome life’s most common obstacles.

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