This morning, my community gathered with students and crossing guards from the school across the street. I waved over to Mo’, who gave me her account: A student had been struck and killed by a car, yesterday afternoon. A crossing guard had not been at their post.
I’m always amazed at how in any given New York neighbourhood, you can walk two blocks one way and you feel like an outsider; walk one block the other way, and residents shout their good mornings and how you dos. Some days, they’ll even rally around you as you grieve.
I’m not sure what happened to the driver or whether the student and their family lived near by. What was so moving and beautifully compassionate was how my community gathered around in respect and support.
I sense that this meaning of compassionate community is related to my journey.