Under the Bridge

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Just had a talk with my best friend.  We reminisced about sneaking out the upstairs bathroom window and smoking cigarettes on the roof.  Meeting up halfway between her house and mine, which was a mile total for each of us (we grew up in the country and had no other neighbors to speak of).  We used to hide-out under the bridge at the end of my road and go fishing, listen to music on our portable CD players, and carve words into the steel barriers of the bridge with rocks.

We’d spend time watching Johnny Carson videos at her parent’s cabin (which has since been sold) and watching movies we weren’t allowed to watch whenever we got the chance.  We did everything together, she was (and still is) like a sister to me.

We reminisced about the old days, when things were so much more simple.  I’ll never forget cruising around on a warm, summer night, riding in the back of my sister’s pick-up, laying down and looking up at the night sky in northern Michigan where the stars in the sky are so plentiful that you can barely see space between them.

Talking with her made me completely forget about my depression, my financial worries, and all the things that bring me down.  It brought me right back to those times we used to spend together, just me and her, staring at the night sky and dreaming dreams bigger than you ever could have imagined.  I’ll never forget those times or the feelings of our youth.

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One response to “Under the Bridge

  1. It’s so comforting when you meet someone from your past and see how someone shares the same yearnings as you!

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