Afraid of change
It is dusk. A call from my daughter.
I am running. Kind strangers with sad eyes. It's not too bad, they say. She's on the ground, crying. I collapse next to her. I don't feel the rain. I'm in a bad dream.
She had been doing everything right, walking her bike through a crosswalk, waiting for cars to stop. The other driver just didn't see her. An ambulance, a fire truck. Lights spinning, refracting.
I don't cry until later. A long night in the emergency room. Exhausted today, but grateful. We are lucky. She will be fine. How scary it is to love so deeply.
A storm of protesters against the Sugar House streetcar. People afraid.
What about the elderly driver who hit my child? The thousands of drivers who text, talk, drink? Who drive drowsy?
We lament the streetcar. We hold it to a higher standard, on a track, at lower speeds. A streetcar that will take thousands of drivers off the road each day, that will provide another, safer way.
We are afraid of the unknown, afraid of change.
Salt Lake City
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