Wednesday Wandering (Memories regarding a covered bridge)

The Prodigal Child


The Old Covered Bridge

whiffs of gas and oil

permeate the warped aged-wood

where echoes of dreams


In my childhood town, I lived a walking distance from a covered bridge that spanned over a river.  A river with rapids and a popular watering hole.  The same river where my childhood friends and I trekked over the frozen parts during the winter and walked for miles following its spine.

This old bridge has stood the raging tests that this flooded raging river would throw at it each spring when the snow melts from the mountains.

Built in the second half of the 1800s this same bridge have seen many generations pass through its inner being.

Including me.

Though it has since been re-built and now a historical site, I will always remember the smells and sounds in its aging body.

May it “live” for generations more.

early-sign-for-covered-bridge The old sign that…

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