I wake up every day at dawn, just as the dew begins to drip off the blades of grass. Every day I am the first to greet the streets with each aching step as I make my way to the bridge. For years, I have seen the bridge as more than just rocks and cement. The bridge is a mother, embracing each person who enters our town with open arms, but weeping when they leave after only a short visit. The bridge is a symbol of opportunity, for whatever lies on either side can be unique to the beholder. The bridge is my friend, whom every day I share stories with has I am suspended by my harness, tending to its needs as we watch the people walk by.
The town is as small as the minds of its inhabitants. If only they were to open their eyes to the details crafted into the bridge that lays before them, the magical, hunter green trees that surround it and the pearlescent blue water of the river it stands above. It is easy to feel trapped in a place that you have grown up in and no longer see its charm. Start with being grateful for something as simple as the bridge you take to work every day, the trees that provide you with oxygen on your morning runs and the river in which you spent every summer at since before you could even remember.
As I gaze out the ajar window upon the horizon, my eyes are graced with a glistening new beginning. It seems as if time has stopped at the abutment of the bridge, and yet I feel ready for this change. The memory which lies behind my family’s car is confined within these scents: the aroma of fresh cut grass from our lawn, the amalgamation of fragrance from foods being prepared, the entire redolence of my former town. This scent is now replaced by the petrichor which has accumulated as we approach my new hometown. As we travel upon the bridge towards the promised land, it is as if the bridge is cradling me, comforting me from the anxiety of what lies ahead. A rebirth from my former self, towards anew. What may the future hold?
The bridge an imperial stamp of ownership from a long gone empire. Once stood tall and proud with ornate cravings and statues. But over times the carvings were worm down and the statues moved on to other pedestals sounded by glass for safe keeping. Now the bridge no longer is imperial and foreign, but a local by the surrounding town. A vital link connecting communities and the world to this place. But the bridge has not wholly forgotten his grand past. The world come to him to catch an impression of that long gone empire and what they stood for. He dose he best to catch the light for optimal grande, preening like peacock who is wooing a potential mate. When the sun has set and the visitors leave the the bridge slightly waits for his favorite part of the day. When local villagers come to quietly cross back and forth. They don’t pay much attention worn carvings, or the history that the bridge holds. They just walk and forth. But occasionally passerby will run their fingers across the side of the bridge. Letting the rough texture of the store starch the tips of their fingers. When this happens the bridge knows why he still stands.
Every morning as I am walking to work, I come across this bridge that is apart of my home. Today I embrace this bridge not to go to work, but to embark on a new journey. Each step I take, I avoid the cracks on the sidewalk remembering the jokes I used to make with my friends about breaking my mother’s back. Chasing the pigeons with my siblings to see them fly away. My mother would always say “stop messing with them before you grow a pair of wings.” Laughing at her for her silly responses not knowing that one day I would actually be going through this bridge to fly away into a new beginning. What may be a simple bridge for every resident in this town, is not so simple for me as it is something that has been here watching me grow into the person I am today.
Although the tiny town lacks a stimulating environment, many people stay for the beautiful artistry of the bridge and buildings. It is calm, and both the winters and summer are mellow. My favorite attribute about the town are all the goldfish lakes. Many prefer the fancier goldfish ponds, but the basic comets are fun to watch as they dart around like little race cars. In order to live in this calming town, one must be one with nature.
When I was a little girl my dad and I would cross the bridge to the other side of the city where we would go to get ice cream at our special place. As a child I never realized the exquisite and alluring characteristics of the bridge. After my dad died we moved away. It was not until I was no longer able to cross this bridge that I realized how stunning and precious this bridge really was. The architecture, the cuts, the curves… I can close my eyes and see every bit of detail. As I imagine the bridge, all the memories of my dad and I laughing and singing while crossing the bridge, on our way to get ice cream come gushing back like the water that flows beneath the bridge. The connections, the secrets and sentiments that this bridge holds are precious. This bridge did not only connect two towns, it connected two hearts. You know the saying “You don’t know what you got until you lose it”? It’s true- How I wish I could cross that bridge one last time with my dad again.
As I walk on the bridge I come to the sudden realization of how this bridge connects people as well as worlds. On one side of the bridge there is a life of luxury, people who drive the nicest cars, dress in expensive clothing, and make more money than a man can ever dream of. The streets are paved with gold and the rich residents laugh at every possible moment as they count their money. On the other side is a clear life of struggle gunshots erupt every five minutes or so, faint sirens can be heard constantly as a dark cloud hangs over this end of the bridge. From a distance you can see an old woman getting robbed by a man in a ski mask as the homeless people just roam the streets looking for a place to stay. I guess I’ll just stay here in the middle of two worlds.
After 15 years one look at the bridge was all it took for tears to start coming down my face. There is no place comparable to this town what I call home. All the good and bad memories of this town came back. Most importantly the significant memories of me belittling the significance of this simple bridge. This is where I grew up, it is a part of my identity.
This bridge connects two paths for the city’s people. The first path consists of light where all the trustworthy, hard-working class, honest, and fair citizens pass every day. The other path is the complete opposite. This path represents darkness where their is corruption, disloyalty, and disrespect for one another. Everyday it is an option for each individual to decide on which path they want to trend in their life.
Walking through the busy streets one can tend to be oblivious to their surroundings. I tend to have my headphones in and my phone out while walking through the city, but not today. I spent my walk to school admiring my beautiful hometown. I felt like a stranger in my own city, which I guess isn’t as unlikely as one might think. In my entire life Ive never taken the time to stop and enjoy my surroundings. I stood at awe under this tremendous bridge I pass under everyday. The simplicity in the bridge is what might make on just walk by without looking twice but if you stop and take in the details, you will surely fall in love.
Although the people already living in this town find no more interest in being here, the tourist that come from all over the world to see this town do find this place to be amusing, filled with beautiful architecture and artistic characteristics that make up this town. Even in the cold days of the winter you will see people admiring these mesmerizing buildings and bridges, large groups of students photographing everything around them, and there are even artists that come down to paints pictures or draw images of the town. Sometimes when we live in a place for a long time, we tend to forget all the things around that make this place special and we take for granted all of its beautiful attributes that come with it.
The limbs of the bridge sink deep into the river while its strong back arches up towards the sky. It’s careful not to block the path of passing cargo ships or cruises full of wide-eyed tourists. It keeps its balance as taxis rush their passengers to the airport or to their new homes in the city. It doesn’t sway as trains carry tired commuters home after a long day, or when the ambitious commuters take their evening jogs. It stands strong with the slow passing of time and the rapid changing of its surroundings.
It’s interesting to think that one place can spark a different meaning for everyone. The one who completely hates this bridge and dreads every moment when crossing it because it reminds them of a once loved one who thought jumping off it would end all their life’s suffering. Or the one who adores this bridge because it holds a steel padlock with the initials of them and their love, symbolizing an unbreakable bound of foreverness since the moment they threw the key fathoms below the water. Or the common commuter who feels nothing towards it. That thinks of it as a smelly piece of cement with rusting sides and bird shit-filled roads to cross. Maybe they’re right. It is a solid rock, never mind the careful craftsmanship, it was created by man and can easily be destroyed by man. Created with the sole intent to connect towns and that’s it. Maybe it isn’t special. Maybe it’s the towns that make it special because its apart of its history. Nonetheless, it is never to be moved until man or nature says so. And when it is gone it will not take the memories of others or the history of its connecting towns. It will only expose the open water and have the land wait for what’s next.
Friends, come and go just like seasons. childhood friends, new friends, friends that moved from a far and friends that couldn’t see past 22. Friends that lead a life of self- destruction once dreamt to find a new direction and to leave this town. In this town, friendships have been built, just like the romans created bridges. The bridge will always remain here, just like true friends will remain with us, through the good times and the bad times. One day I wish to reunite with my friends on that same bridge; where we once all shared laughs and tears. Unforgettable memories fade away in the distance as the bridge still prevails.
Bridges signify a strong connection that we all have one to another. It just not the only way for us to be able to travel one place to another but a sense of home. The Architecture was very detailed and wouldn’t be valued in one single visit. Its appreciation is beyond words, as the moonlight reflects the water there’s a sense of calmness. Looking back at the agenda for today, most of my time is taken up admiring the tall bridge.
Always trying to abstain from these thoughts. Hypothetically thinking about what happens after. Always passed the bridge, valuing the scenery. Hadn’t given much thought about the importance of family and friendships. Making the decision to come to the bridge wasn’t hard. Arrived in the late evening looking at the relaxing ocean. Jumping off into the water from the tall bridge hoping not to survive. Drowning is not the way to go.
Remaining solitary in a major city. quite a long time ago the huge lovely scaffold made out of stones with excellent structure of a realm was once valued by the general population lives in the city. The bridge was often use by the people in the city either to walk to release some stress or to drive to go to spots or some even used to simply gaze at it. Presently the old scaffold is scarcely utilize like it used to be, on the grounds that the gratefulness goes to the new extensions that is as of late working up made out of glass or steel. We Often center around the new things however don’t perceive how the old ones are the ones that formed us to be our identity today and set us up for the new ones. The huge old extension as yet standing today.
As a newcomer to this country I understood everything was going to be a little different than what I grew up with and I was left to learn some things on my own.This is the place where I met all of my current closest friends that helped me get through, this is the place where i learned to speak English, this is the place where my new life began. This is my Junior High School.
There I am everyday, sitting with a group of friends on our lunch table waiting impatiently to be let outside to the yard for recess. Finally we are able to run and get some fresh air and go play sports which is what we love. The yard is so big that we have space to play different sports. It has imaginary lines dividing the space for each sport. At the back of the yard we have the handball courts, then it’s the ”basketball courts”, a pole that has a backboard and a rim with no net attached to it, after the basketball courts came the free space to run around and do whatever you want.
However now its a totally different place. This school now has murals on the walls, the lines painted on the floor and the walls for the handball courts, one big full basketball court with two hoops with nets and all the lines on the floor as well, a big enough space with turf on the ground for some football or soccer, benches around the whole yard and even some ping pong tables.
This place used to bring back a lot of memories for me and my friends every time we are walking by. Now all we see is this big building with a nice big yard for kids to have fun and enjoy. This is not the same place it was before. This is not my Junior High School.
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