Living in an area surrounded by water, I’m constantly crossing bridges wherever I go. Three of them cross the Intracoastal Waterway and take me to the beaches, only one do I use to get to the heart of the city, and then there’s the Dames Point, the largest and most striking, giving the appearance of two giant sails of a boat, reaching hundreds of feet into the air that leads me to the airport, for quick pick-ups or long-distance journeys; but only one bridge takes me home.
It’s a small bridge by local standards that spans Julington Creek, and I cross it to get to almost anywhere in the area I need or want to go. On the east side of the bridge the creeks is wide and this is a favorite spot for weekend water sports; skiing, tubing, boating and swimming. The farther up into the creek you travel the narrower it becomes, until the million dollar waterfront homes disappear and suddenly you feel like you’ve been transported into another world; where the tree branches reach out over the dark water, as if they’re trying to touch each other from either side of the bank, dripping so thick with Spanish moss that the appearance is ghostly and ethereal.
In the morning on my way to work, the sunrise shimmers over it’s glassy surface and makes me long to be off the road, out of traffic, slowly making my way up the creek to a find a quiet spot to sit and greet the day. There’s a marina right at the base of the bridge, where the tall masts of the sailboats are a striking contrast when the sun sets and acts as their backdrop.
All that aside, what I find so special about this bridge, is that no matter where I’ve been, how happy or stressful my time away was, as soon as I hit that bridge and the sound of my tires as they pass over the sectioned pavement, rig out and give the feel and sound of a heartbeat, and the familiar tree-lined banks come into view…I know I’m home.
Two minutes tops…and I’ve left the hustle and bustle of the world, where I peacefully escape to my little house nestled in the big woods; far enough away that the only sounds heard are those that come from the river, yet close enough to civilization that everything is right up the street. In a strange and sometimes terrifying world, its nice to have such a simple pleasure to count on….what’s your simple pleasure?