I don’t recall ever reading anything about sidewalks, yet there is a lot to be said about them. If Marcel Proust could go on and on about a little dry cake why not write about something that absolutely everyone has experienced: walking on sidewalks!
Who has never waked, head down deep in thought or looking for pennies or trying not to step on the cracks?
Some sidewalks are very wide like along les Champs Elysées in Paris, others are barely wide enough for one person, some are works of art like in Prague with their beautiful cobblestone motifs. But when you are a kid, it is not the size that you notice, it is the texture. Some are smooth, others are pockmarked while others are cracked, some are new cement other are old and worn.
Do you remember old fashion metal four wheel roller skates? The kind that went over your shoes (leather shoes not sneakers) and that you tightened with a key? You wore the key on a string around your neck.You could really feel the sidewalk when roller skating with those. The regular thump of the cracks every few feet and then the vibrations over the rocky parts, even your voice got funny over those areas. The rush of adrenaline when your skate caught in something and you had to regain your balance…the fun of feeling the wind on your face when going down a hill…the noise they made too…
How about writing with chalk on the sidewalk or driveways? Drawing hopscotch grids, or hearts with names and arows running through them. When the chalk was short you would scrape your knuckles. Scraped knees hurt more with all those tiny black pebbles under your skin…
What about sitting on the sidewalk in summer, pulling on your dress to avoid getting little rocks imbedded in the back your thighs, playing marbles or building dams with twigs when there was water in the street or watching ants carrying crumbs larger than themselves…
But my favourite time to enjoy the sidewalk was always at the end of winter. When the first patch of dry cement appeared out of the snow. After months of wearing rubber boots over my shoes, I would deliberately remove them standing on the dry patch and just rub my shoes on the concrete. I would feel the sand rolling under my soles , all the sand that was thrown during the winter months to make the roads less slippery. It make a nice soft sound. I could feel the warmth of the sun hitting my face and the cold coming from the snow still remaining on the ground. It felt like a battle, but the sun had won and the snow had nothing left to do but to retreat . This patch of bare sidewalk announced skipping ropes, doll carriages, wooden wagons, tricycles…happiness..