Gentle Solidarity

Wall mural on the side of the little neighborhood market, Quetzal Imports

Each day, rain or shine, I walk through our neighborhood. Tucked away close to the freeway on the west side of Salt Lake, this small, diverse community is populated primarily by people of color. When I was a kid growing up in Salt Lake City, we thought of this part of town as a rough place on the wrong side of the tracks.

When I first moved here after being released from the hospital I was walking outside once a day.  It was more of a stagger than a walk. Now I’m walking twice a day, sometimes more. Clearly I am growing stronger.

Today, as I was shuffling down the sidewalk with my hands and head covered and my face mask filtering out the pollutants, it occurred to me that the people I have been running into each day out on the streets have been unusually friendly - always offering up eye contact and a nod of the head, sometimes adding a grunt, sometimes a muffled “hey brother”, but always a cordial acknowledgement, a kind of gentle solidarity.

I think they see a man fighting to regain his health. I don’t seem to frighten them. They don’t look away.

I have begun to accept these small gestures as gentle encouragement from people who understand struggle.

--Roger