Sidewalk of Dreams

Sidewalk, I can walk on you for miles. You start at my doorstep and stretch out to every corner of this little town. Every house that I pass has the porch-light turned on, and the telltale blue flicker of a television playing out its stories behind each set of curtains.

I wonder why I don't watch more television, then I realize it's because I spend my free time sitting in front of a computer screen. It's all the same then; everywhere I look, we're watching screens. When I've got a moment to spare, I'll check my cellphone for messages: another little screen, but this one fits in my pocket.

Consequently I use my cellphone as a type of 'soft' flashlight when I go stumbling through the house at night, not wanting to turn on any lights since there's always a person sleeping on the couch. Don't want to wake them. And always a different person each night, which strikes me as another novelty of this place.

Another novelty is the communal coffee pot. I've timed myself to wake up fifteen minutes after my wife's father, so I can descend on the fruits of the coffee pot with none of the involved work (little that there may be: pour in water, coffee grounds, push button-- but whatever). "Gentle Opportunist" is the name I used to give myself, proudly beaming. That is, until I stumble in to find that the coffee has, in fact, been made but none is left for me. And then I feel insulted, snuffed, as it were, by fate, and/or my housemates. How dare they.... ?

What does it mean that we look into screens all day for work, recreation, and utility? What would be the response if I traveled a hundred years into the past to visit an ancestor; and he asked what we did all day in the future, and I answered, "We look at screens! It's awesome!"?

These sidewalks, they remain largely unused from what I've seen. But at least they're handicap accessible.


it is what it is