Friends, I would like you to meet Sidewalk Fork.
This fork has lived on my block for several months.
Sometimes he’s on the sidewalk. Sometimes (as pictured!) he’s on the boulevard. Once in a while someone picks him up and jabs him sideways into a telephone pole.
Part of me thinks, “Sara, you should pick him up and take him home.” But part of me really likes seeing him on the sidewalk. It’s become kind of a game. Find the fork! Where is he this week?
And that part of me (the silly, idealistic, we-are-all-connected-even-if-only-by-seeing-the-same-junk-on-the-ground-every-week side) secretly believes that other people like seeing him, too. (I mean, I wasn’t the one who stabbed him into the telephone pole. Clearly, other people are invested in his presence.)
And since I’d be disappointed if someone else took him home, I feel I shouldn’t risk disappointing my fellow Sidewalk Fork lovers. My fellow, hypothetical, Sidewalk Fork lovers.
So he stays on the ground. And I grin to myself when I see him.
Hello, Sidewalk Fork. How are you. Me too, me too.
These are the things I think about.
