I read a true story about a woman who lived in the remote village of Victory, Vermont, a tiny hamlet without a store or a school. Its main claim to fame was that it had been the last town in Vermont to obtain electricity.
While earning a Master's degree, the woman commuted to the State University in Burlington, several hundred miles away. Each night as she came home, she would see an old man sitting by the side of the road near her house. He was always there, no matter how late the night or horrid the weather.
Curious about who the old man was, she inquired of a neighbor. The answer surprised her. He was a neighbor she barely knew who didn't like the idea of a young lady driving by herself on back roads late at night, and so he sat there until she passed each night. When he saw her tail-lights disappear around the bend, he went off to bed.
That's what it means to love your neighbor.