An Unlikely Friendship

Time never stands still. It rubs away our days, yet some moments stay bright. On my study table sits a photo of Mr Tan and me. Every time I see it, I remember the friendship we built.

It was a sunny day. I had just finished staying back and was walking along the corridor of my block. The air was warm and the lift hummed softly. Outside Mr Tan’s flat, I saw that my neighbour Mr Tan’s flower pot had been knocked over. Dry soil lay like a small brown island. I bent down to put the plant back. Mr Tan, a thin man with silver hair and gentle eyes, heard the noise outside and opened the door to see what had happened. When he saw me helping, he grinned from ear to ear and thanked me. I did not know that was the start of a close friendship.

The next day, after school, I spotted Mr Tan at the gate of our block, pushing his wheelchair with one hand and holding several heavy bags with the other. I hurried over and took the bags. “Is this speed okay?” I asked as I walked beside him. “A little slower, thank you,” he said with a smile. His voice was warm, like soup on a rainy day.

Over the next few weeks, I would meet Mr Tan after school and help him carry his groceries. Sometimes I tucked the bags against the chair and guided it gently while he showed me how to hold the handles so the chair would not tilt. He was always thankful to me, and he began to share stories from his life. I learnt he had once been a chef and had owned a famous restaurant. As we moved along the corridor, the soft whirr of his wheels and his steady voice made the afternoons feel calm.

One afternoon, everything changed. I finally mustered the courage. When we were walking back home, I asked him, “Do you want to be friends?” He stopped. Tears filled his eyes. I froze in shock. “Oh no, I am so sorry!” I blurted. Cold sweat trickled down my forehead. Mr Tan shook his head. “You did nothing wrong,” he whispered. “What you asked me is the best thing anyone has said to me in months. Yes, I would love to be your friend.” Relief washed over me. I gave him a careful hug. He was in a wheelchair, but hugging him felt so good. We rolled home side by side, lighter than before.

Days became weeks. Every day, we would talk, share our day and sometimes even play games together. Soon I came to realise we had become best friends.

Then, one day, as I was walking home with Mr Tan, he suddenly stopped. “Mr Tan! Are you alright?” I asked worriedly. He took a breath. “I cannot keep this secret anymore. Next week, I am moving to China to stay with my cousins for about three years. They will take care of me there, and I am leaving next Monday. My flight is at 2 a.m. I hope we can still write to each other.”

My heart dipped. I felt like finding a hole in the ground and hiding there forever. Tears rolled down my cheeks like a fast-flowing river, and my face turned hot and puffy. He squeezed my hand and said we could still be best friends. I nodded.

At the airport, the departure boards clicked and the cool air smelled faintly of coffee. We shared a quiet moment. “Write to me next Friday?” he asked. “I promise,” I said, my voice small but firm. I waved as he rolled towards the gate, biting my lip to stop more tears.

Even though it has already been a year, Mr Tan is still in China and we have written to each other every week. Time moves on, but kind acts leave marks that time cannot wash away. Our letters remind me that true friendship can travel farther than any plane.