There is a footbridge here that I can’t get enough of. It’s a small one, maybe 20 feet across, and it connects this side of the lake to the main campus up the hill. I’m particularly intrigued by it, perhaps, because when I was here last year, I couldn’t find that bridge for three days. I knew it existed, I had looked at the map, but every morning when I set out on my walk, I ended up on the wrong path through the woods and somehow shot right past the little turn off that leads down to the bridge.
So now that I’ve found it, I can’t get enough, especially on this last morning when I know my time on that bridge is limited. I skipped my usual longer run/walk and just walked to the bridge and back. I stood there for quite awhile, feeling the not-quite-warm sun on my shoulders and watching the corners of the lily pads flip up in the wind. It’s the windiest morning we’ve had yet, though the sky is clear as can be. I stood in the middle of the bridge facing into the wind, and pretended my feet were roots holding me to the bridge so I wouldn’t by knocked over by the weight of it all.