This bridge does not swing above the jungles of South America
or over raging Colorado waters
it is a landmark in my small Iowa hometown, strung across a steep ravine
held together by cables, wires, and barrel staves
262 feet of wobbly suspension
when I was a young girl, it was a frightening encounter to cross
with its rotted planks and gaping holes
and I was sure I could fall through
though now I doubt it
it would rock and roll under my feet as I walked across
older rambunctious cousins would swing it to and fro,
causing me to freeze in place,
clinging to its wire cable until they exhausted themselves
laughing
but I learned to wait them out, not giving in to their pleasure of stopping my trek
across
to the other side
because it was important to reach
as with all significant things in life
conquering the fear that can hold us in place
from reaching beyond what one thought possible
it was only a ravine
but it might as well have been a jungle or raging waters
underneath that bridge
and yet
I reached the other side
and looked back
and grinned
at those who thought I would never
cross over
Monday thoughts,
missing the mom gene
(Built in 1886, the Lover’s Leap Swinging Bridge is still there, waiting
for each soul
to cross to the other side)
