Skip to main content

A day in the life of a concrete dolphin

The gentle sound of chalk scraping across pavement brings us to life. The talented artists draws me and my pod of dolphins, happily leaping across the sidewalk.

It's good to be back. Apparently, we're one of the more popular drawings he does. He certainly must have some more unique pieces than us, but passersby sure seem to love us based on the number of coins they drop into his hat.

We see a lot during our day. Earlier in the morning, we see curious faces peak over the artist's shoulder as we come to life. They often don't want to stand too close, perhaps afraid that they'll disturb his process. But after he's cleared away to go and draw life into others, we get a lot more faces taking us in.

Some smile and the joy of us mid-jump across the ground. Others snap a quick picture on their phones and carry on about their day (they do always manage to get our good side, because that's all the artist drew after all). And some don't seem to notice us, or perhaps have become too used to our presence and walk across us. But we leave a fine dusty mark on their feet, just so they can remember us later.

The smilers are the best. It's a wonderful feeling for a concrete dolphin to know you've brought some joy into someone's day. Sure, some of them were already having a great day, but you know some weren't.

We may not get to splash around in the ocean like real dolphins, but we also don't have to fear sharks or a poorly placed fishing net or pollution beyond the occasional bit of litter. We get to take in the marvelous city and see many faces as people bustle about. We get to hear the fine (and sometimes not so fine, have you heard the guy who does karaoke?) buskers who flood the streets with their music or the clack of their shoes as they dance. Really, there's no better place to be.

There is, sadly, a few downsides to being a concrete dolphin. One is obviously the constant threat of rain. The typical mist won't drive us away, but when it rains, our faces get washed away, becoming no more than a grainy smear on the pavement. We then have to wait again for the artist and he has to wait until the ground is dry enough to bring us to life once more.

But that is the nature of our ephemeral existence. If the rain doesn't take us, eventually enough feet of the passersby do. We will smudge and then fade away into the pavement with only the little bits of us clinging to shoes before we're shaken off throughout the city.

It's not so bad though. All it will take for us to drink in another day is for the artist to come back. And so far, he always has. We get to take in the faces of the people who enjoy us and know that we've gotten him a little bit of coin. It's a pretty good spot in life.

As the day goes on, we get to see some repeat faces. Usually we get second smiles, but we also manage to get some first ones. Now that people have taken care of their errands they feel freer to dally and look around.

As the day draws to a close, the rain clouds start to gather. Looks like it's our queue to go, until the artist draws again.

(Prompt by Kimisha Cassidy)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

15 facts about my dad

Just been thinking about some lighthearted facts I know about my dad lately. When he was young, he had a goldfish named Lysander He introduced me to Star Trek At Christmas, he would tear up at It's a Wonderful Life He used to send me articles from his Yahoo email account that he thought I'd like We used to play a game called "Nightmare" where he would lie down and we'd jump around (and sometimes on) him He would clip possible recipes for us to try out of newspapers and magazines We bought him a Paddington Bear to take on trips because we feared he'd be lonely and he always took it He had teddy bears for three different holidays We once had such a hilariously difficult time building a gingerbread house that when some frosting ended up on the counter, I plopped a gumdrop on it and we laughed until we cried He and his sister were born about 11 months apart We would try recipes from Top Chef He kept gifts I made him, even when they weren't great At Christmas, ...

15 things you'll think about during your dad's latest hospital stay

This is meant to be a related piece to "15 things to do in your dad's hospital room," "15 Things You Find in Your Dad's Hospice Room," and "15 Things You Find When You Clean Out Your Dad’s Apartment" .  The Christmas lights at the nurse's station that should really have been switched for saccharine cupids by now What team decided to hang up a clearly labeled DRAFT safety sign Who comes up with the aliases they seem to use for trauma patients and how they decided on Redstone for your dad That his skin either looks like a bruised elephant or like sickeningly conflicting colors of thin paper mache Where you can possibly get food--you're shaky The patient in the ER somewhere with a lot of ammo, but no gun, or so they say Why the staff is being so happily loud and swearing...it feels discordant The used bandaid and gauze that are left on the floor of his ER room as he moves to his hospital room...the last proof he was there Having to do this a...

15 things I'm looking forward to for summer 2024

It'll be here so soon!  Whale watching with a friend Bookstore crawl with a friend 57th Street Art Fair Beach days Movies in the park Swapping out my wardrobe Being done with egg retrievals (hopefully) Helping a friend plan her wedding Going to Galena Taking other trips with friends Doing more sessions of my D&D one shot Eating ice cream on hot days Dining at the Point Trying to find an agent for my picture book ideas (hopefully) Reading more (hopefully) (Prompts by me) "Sperm Whale diving" by Bernard Spragg. NZ