Author Information
THE BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER
There is a bridge over the river. I believe that at some point in everyone's life there is a bridge like this. Whether real or imagined, it doesn't seem to matter. At times, the waters flow gently, and at other times it is a raging torrent, depending on the observer.
Beneath my bridge the water is flowing gently, making gurgling sounds as it scurries over rocks and cascades toward the sea. I stand on the bridge with the one I love and we talk of the future. With hands entwined, eyes only for each other, we vowed to stay together always and planned our wedding. We named our children in advance making sure that the names would be compatible with their last name and that they would not be odd or funny. After all, the children had to go through life with those names.
The wedding took place; the children came along and were named, all according to plan. We watched them grow and many times during those years we visited the bridge. The waters still gurgled, but not always over rocks. Sometimes it ran over tires, tin cans and bottles. The birds didn't sing there anymore and many of the trees were gone.
Years passed and the bridge was forgotten. Life had become too busy and simple pleasures were cast aside. Then tragedy made my life much like that of the river. My husband lost his three year battle with cancer. My oldest daughter, a victim of a brutal rape, died after a year as a result of her injuries. Tires, tin cans and bottles... no birds singing, trees gone.
Now I go alone to the river. Once more it is clean, the birds sing and the trees are green again. I look down into the waters, I see their faces, together for all eternity ... and I wish I were there. But wishes dissipate quickly and life goes on and the waters flow under the bridge... the bridge over the river.
