New cement and upturned grass


New sidewalk

Sometime last week as I was walking home in the gutter - as usual - I was thinking about the fact I was walking home in the gutter and how funny it was, when suddenly I reached the mouth of my street and noticed that a path had been dug up in the grass and a chunk had been taken out of the curb. Not only that but the street sign leading into our street was laying diagonally, yanked out of the dirt.

Funny enough, as I was considering how I had trudged home in the gutter the whole of the 16-17 years I'd lived in this house, suddenly they'd decided to build (is it building if you're not constructing something upwards?) us a sidewalk. Or pavement. Or footpath. Whichever one depending on where you're from.

So it's nice and all, but I don't feel like I can walk on it yet. Besides, they're not finished with it. When I walk out in the morning, there's always new cement laid out, wet and glistening in the sun - how's that for imagery? Even the dried stuff seems off-limits... just in case.

I think it's a mark of what kind of neighbourhood my immediate one is, however, in the fact that despite there being metres of wet cement laid out in this inviting snake, there hasn't been any defacing that I have seen so far. No one has drawn in the cement though briefly I had the urge to step in it and leave a footprint this morning. Given this, I feel like my doubt over my mother's fears of me being snatched and raped on the way home is fairly justified.