Steps Toward Unity
By: Fleur Sauvage
Tags: Love, Healing, BlackLivesMatter, Creative Non Fiction, Unity

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It’s a cool Autumn morning. So many colors swaying in unison as the wind slowly strips the trees. Brown, yellow, red; tans and oranges still tinged with green. I’m the only one out to admire this brisk beauty.

It’s hard for me not to frolic in the leaves. After all, I’m an “adult” and knowing my luck someone will be sipping their morning coffee — peering out the window just in time to see a stranger rolling around on their lawn. I don’t care to explain to the police or a shrink that enjoying the natural world is the sanest thing a person can do, so I refrain. Besides, I’m on a mission. My fitness tracker chimed issuing a challenge: First to 30,000 steps and I plan on winning. So, I continue at my pace in a virtual race with 100 other people around the world whom I’ll never meet, but I hope at least one of them can see the colors I see.

Up ahead, the road leads to a park with a circular path surrounding a small jungle gym. I hear children’s laughter just as two boys ZOOM by me, one taunting the other with a piece of his clothing he snagged and bolted with. They are both laughing so hard they can barely run but the chase is too much fun to stop. They zig-zag up the street to another group of children waiting there for them.

They form up with a few boys who incite a burst of infectious laughter while the girls of the group are huddled together talking. A small Hispanic boy and his older sister, a Caucasian brother and sister, their cousin, and with them, an awkwardly tall African American girl. They are barely old enough to acknowledge or care how diverse their group is. Without force, thought, or guilt, they see more in common than the little separations we adults sometimes imagine. ‘Equal Representation’, ‘Diversity’, ‘Racial Equity’, and ‘Social Inclusion’, are terms they will soon be exposed to, but for now, they are simply children; human beings with the common goal of play, who, with no prejudice, create this environment naturally.

So many colors swaying in unison.

As I approach from a block away, their formation changes. As does their attitude. They see me seeing them. They line up along the road and start whispering nervously to each other. Shoulder to shoulder, like an impenetrable Phalanx. Only one is out of formation. She can’t help it. Maybe 12 years old and a sore thumb is the girl of African descent. She is the only one not speaking. She is silent. She watches and listens brilliantly — to me and to them. She stands behind them, not in fear but as a protector. Her character, exposed. The strong sentinel who I can see will have their backs for years to come. “They don't know how lucky they are”, I think to myself.

I can’t help but smile.

When I reach them, they are all glaring at me stoically, arms crossed. The young Hispanic boy who is no more than 8 years old shouts, “What’s up?!”

Still smiling, I turn and nod.

My non-verbals didn’t suffice.

and he asks me again, “Hey, what’s up?!”

I respond, “What’s good, big man?!”

His grimace fades to a smile and he gallops away. The rest of the group hesitating.

He looks back and yells, “I told you he wasn’t a killer!!”

I can’t help but burst into laughter.

Now relaxed and smiling, they dash up the street, regroup, and continue playing.

So many colors swaying in unison.