Because there are two sides to every story….
Thursday night, our neighborhood came together to find a missing girl.
I’m not sure exactly how the word spread, but it seemed like everyone on the street knew what was going on, and most of them were helping in some way.
For a couple of hours, everyone you saw was a fellow searcher. There were people with flashlights, people on bikes, people in cars. Cops drove around, using their searchlights, while others walked down alleyways normally abandoned to the night or trespassed into yards to extend the search.
We didn’t know each other. We didn’t share the same skin color or culture. We may never see each other again. But, for that short time, we knew who we were.
We were neighbors. And one of our neighbors was missing.
And in that moment, that’s all that mattered.
It was beautiful.