These stories are in no particular order.... oh well

12. Yellow Brick Run

I like to run. Where ever I live that is the first thing I do, I hunt down good running trails and then I slip my feet in my tired old running shoes and out I go. Right now I am living next to a great trail. Once a month it becomes the best running trail in the whole wide world. This trail starts out as a sidewalk behind my house, it goes under four bridges where cars rush over head, over a set of train tracks and then to dirt before you reach the sweet spot. This spot makes the whole run worth it. It is an old wooden bridge. This is not the world’s prettiest bridge and it is built over a crummy little creek that is empty half the time and has dirty water when it is running. The wood is tired and swollen from years of exposure to the elements. My feet always go thud-thud hollowly as I cross, and every time not matter how bad my day is I am smiling. This bridge is loved by someone. It was once special for someone. I have evidence of this because once a month or so there are pink rose petals scattered across the length of it. I run carefully over these petals, I don’t step on them, and I say thank you to whoever leaves them for giving me that moment in time. I have created tons of stories behind the petals. My favorite involves an older couple who used to walk that trail everyday. They met when they were young; there were lots of arguments over the years and lots of laughter, they had three children which are all grown up now. Over the years the couple grew old together, slowly starting to resemble one another. Then one died and the couple became just one person. Now that person walks that path thinking about the one they have lost… they scatter the petals as they cross the bridge and then walk back to stand in the middle and remember all of the good conversations that they shared, and all of the joy they felt. They smile thoughtfully and then slowly turn and shuffle away. It must have been something special. I can feel it when I run by. The run continues through a field that is full of sun flowers in the spring and shaded by huge cotton trees but no where is more beautiful than that old, rotting bridge.