Branches crunching beneath my feet and the solemn echoing of a single crow's caw are the only sounds to be heard in these desolate woods. Once alive with the creatures of summer and lush with vibrant colours, these woods are now littered with spindly trees and fallen branches, grey and quiet.
As I continue down the silent path, I finally see a peek of green in the hibernating woods. Although lifeless brown vines cling to it's rails, the beauty of the bridge is unscathed. It's pale green paint is only chipped in some places, but it's collective beauty has seemed to attract a glimmer of sunlight, which floats down from the blanket of the treetops. I carefully lower myself to the frozen riverbed below, under the bridge. Then I see it. It has been years since I'vebeen here. Twenty years now, yet it brings back a flood of memories as if it was yesterday that they were experienced. The grooves are still deep, the words clear as day. Carved into the bridge is the beginning of my life, my hardships, my love, and my undeniable fate.
