Late, late the other night, Michael was sitting on the back step smoking a cigarette when suddenly he heard the side gate bang open and saw a young black man running through our backyard. Michael jumped up and yelled “Stop!” The young man stopped and then said “You know me. I live in the blue house down the street.” It was very dark and Michael responded “I don’t know you in the dark. To me you’re a man running through my yard.” The young man responded with “I’m not a man. I’m a boy.” And he is. He’s probably fourteen. I’ve watched him walk to the bus stop every morning for the last two years, but now he’s a teenager and has shot up to a man-size height.

The boy started to move closer to Michael and Michael stopped him. He said “Stay back because of the virus. Is someone chasing you?” The boy responded with “Yes.” and the Michael asked him if he needed to call the police. The boy responded with “yes. Call the police.” So Michael dialed 911 and then the boy said something about his phone and left the backyard and Michael to deal with the police. We have no idea what the outcome was, if the police found the boy, if he’s okay. I almost stopped by the house yesterday to ask if everything was alright, but I hesitate because I only now the family in passing. I don’t know how to approach it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Because I am concerned for that boy’s safety.

I know that if he had run into someone else’s backyard, someone who is a gun owner, a white person with a gun, that person would have shot first and asked questions later. They would have seen this man-sized boy as a threat. Because of the color of his skin. He would have been fleeing danger only to run right into it and I feel sick and helpless about not being able to make all of that not true. I want to know that this boy is safe. And I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know how to approach that blue house down the street.