I think I have an affinity for bridges. On enjoyable fall afternoons when the kids have had enough bike riding and weed-pulling, we take a walk to the old bridge up the country road that runs behind our house. We have to be careful though because the stroller wheels fall between the wooden slats – that’s how big the cracks are! My 5-year-old is always very careful as he leans over to toss rocks into the water; I keep a tight hold on my 15-month old because she has NO fear.
When I go for walks by myself, I often find myself gravitating toward another old bridge next to the pond where we used to fish as kids. The dog we had for about 18 years used to bark at this same bridge if you’d say, “Lucky, get ready!” Maybe it was the clickety-clack the wood made when the pickup drove over it?
And as I was driving to Kansas City a couple of weekends ago, I drove over the Missouri River bridge at Brownville. Granted, it’s not a bridge of Nemaha County (Nebraska), but I snapped this picture with my phone. It looks like a sketch – the lines are so beautiful.
I wonder what that means – my love of bridges. I know the expression “don’t burn bridges” because then you can never go back; I also know “building bridges” … it can stand for “get over it” or “find a connection between yourself and another person”.
Or maybe I’m just reading too much into it and these old bridges just bring up pleasant childhood memories. Either way, I’m off to go cast another stone (in the creek!) from one of my favorite bridges.
Until we walk again …
