Thursday, April 21, 2011

Story-A-Day #161: Over The Bridge


From this angle, it is ideal. It is a perfectly crafted wooden foot bridge proving safe passage for those looking to wander off along the trail it joins as they explore the bucolic meadows and shadowy forests beyond.

What a lovely way to spend an afternoon, wandering that meandering trails as it follows the slow moving waters of the creek. What marvels might one encounter on such a journey? Even from here I can see a groundhog in the distance, half bumbling nuisance, half woodland wanderer. It rises to its hind feet, surveys the area for a moment, then quickly scampers off through the long flowing grass.

What else might be hidden down that overgrown trail?

Maybe there is a forgotten cabin at its end, a forlorn decrepit old place home to a matching woman who passes her days polishing a collection of antique bottles. She waits each day for the sun to go down and as it does, her life is filled with colour, a brilliant kaleidoscope of green, blue and white and the sun sparkles through her collection.

Maybe there is an open glade, a small clearing where witches gather to conduct life-giving ceremonies for Gaia. They frolic nakedly around a small fire, enjoying the smoky embrace of the sweet herbs and exotic concoctions they burn.

Maybe the creek becomes more majestic towards its source. It cascades down over a large embankment of rock filling a crystalline pool below with cool gurgling freshness. This secret swimming hole is a retreat for locals and animals alike, a luxurious retreat from the summer heat.

And maybe there is nothing along that trail. Maybe it simply dwindles off, a mere excuse for the existence of the bridge in the first place.

From this angle, it is ideal. From the same distance on the opposite side of the bridge, the view is much different.

A heavy cement bridge allows for the continuous passage of parading cars, trucks, buses, bikes and pedestrians. Beneath that larger bridge, an abandoned shopping cart gathers rust next to a floating plastic container. It is nowhere near as romantic.

One day, I will follow that path and discover where it leads. For today though, I have other places to be.

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