I love crossing my little bridge. Admittedly the alternate routes were perfectly fine and country roads too but they weren't MY road.
I missed these views. I missed this little farm by the side of the road. I couldn't check on the growth of his corn or see if any ducks or geese remained.
I missed seeing Blue Mound in the far distance.
I missed slowing down the car and greeting "the ladies" while they hunkered under a tree, in the shade.
I'm spoiled, I admit it.
I love new roads.
I also love the comfort and sense of peace I get from driving slowly down my road. Something happens to all those thoughts and cares when I approach that bridge and see the stream under it. Going by the farm I have a sense of connectedness with the years of farm families that worked and lived here.
When I can see Blue Mound in the distance I immediately think of the Native Americans that walked this road when it was just a deer path.
I remember my kids swimming at the pool in Blue Mound State Park. I remember the look on my middle son's face when we climbed the fire tower in the park and he realized that he didn't like height's.
Memories flood my mind, stories start writing themselves.
My road takes me physically and mentally out of the reality of the day to day hustle and bustle of life.
If only for a short time.
I think of it as my meditation road.
So, I am delighted that my road is open once again and the bridge is safe.
I will once again hear the WHOOSH of the bike riders, as they zoom by my house, in a colorful line.
I will once again have to stop my car at the bottom of my driveway and inch out to make sure that someone isn't zooming up the road.
I can live with that because I have my road and bridge back again.