the drive was brief and dark with the occasional street light blinking furiously as if to justify it's existance. when we arrived, the bridge lay stretched wide and empty in front of us.
empty. not one other car anywhere near the bridge, and as far as i could see there was no one on the other side either.
i remember running on that bridge, away from the fights and the screaming and the hitting. tripping every few steps on my clumsy, scared feet. trying to get away from here, from them, forever.
from my first time seeing that bridge again, in all it's quiet and rusty majesty, i knew i couldn't stay here much longer.
that bridge represented everythig i had always loved, hated and didn't understand about the town itself. it was old and rickety, but no repairs had been made since the 1950's. no one usually crossed it since the newer bridge was built a few blocks down the river, but no one closed the old one or tore it down. it served no purpose other than to usher those few who had never heard of the town's emptiness into their own little oblivion.
almost ten years ago we left this place but i never really forgot it. i wanted to believe that some day i could move back into the simple life, and be happy living in the country with a house full of children and a yard full of dogs. but somewhere, somehow in those ten years i grew out of the simple life and began dreaming big dreams.
i can't be as fabulous as i want to be in a town without a theatre, a cabaret, or even a pub.
why i chose the "showbiz" life, i will never be able to explain.
all i know is that ten years didn't take the painful memories out of this town, or out of my heart, and i shouldn't have to hurt anymore.
so i cross that bridge, now that i've come to it.
1 week ago