Driving onto Topsail Island yesterday, I was stuck in traffic because the old swing bridge was open to let boats pass through on the intracoastal waterway. It’s the one place I don’t mind being stuck. Sitting there, I could already feel my body shifting to island time, even though I was accompanied by my computer, my manuscript and hours and hours of work ahead of me. I never mind sitting in my car, watching that old bridge lazily swing open and the boats slowly sailing beneath. It reminds me of the bridge from my childhood in Point Pleasant, New Jersey, the one I wrote about in The Bay at Midnight. It reminds me to slow down. (The video is one John made of the swing bridge in the evening light).
Tell us about the bridges in your life. They can be literal or metaphorical. Whatever you like.
If you’re new to Story Weekend, here’s how it works: I pick a theme and you share something from your life that relates to that theme, however you interpret it. Thanks to all of you who’ve been contributing. As always, there are a few “rules”:
▪ The story must be true
▪ Try to keep it under 100 words. Embrace the challenge! That’s about six or seven lines in the comment form. I want others to read your story, and most people tend to skip if it’s too long. I know how tough it is to “write tight” but I hope you’ll accept this as a challenge.
▪ Avoid offensive language.