Only until I looked in on speaktherights.com today did I realize there was a picture of a bridge and a post below it about Mrs. Bridges giving me a Christmas stocking with my name on it.

In a “can’t see the forest for the trees moment”, I thought that was pretty cool.

The Bridge.  The Surf City Swing Bridge in Surf City, North Carolina.  How many times did that little bridge allow my dear wife, Carrie, and me access to a twenty-six mile barrier island that has become our second home.

There were grooves in the pavement of the bridge.  It produced a low vibrating hum when you crossed it.  That sound heading toward the water was like a joyous symphony.  Heading away from the water after the visit, it sounded like a sad love song.

Called a “Swing Bridge”, it would swing around and out of the way to allow water craft to pass through the sound side of the island. Road traffic in both directions had to wait on it as it allowed maybe a single boat to pass, as it was.

This past week a new bridge was opened.  It opened ahead of schedule. We look forward to “crossing that bridge when we come to it.”

In the spring of 2017, this progress on the new bridge looked like this.

And now this.

Though we won’t travel over the old swing bridge again, there are memories and pictures and a place or two in the old heart for the relic.  We first crossed it in 2004.  We last crossed it this past summer.  Plans were to ride over it one more time in October.  A Hurricane had other plans.

And like an old 45 year old Christmas stocking that came from a caring, thoughtful, kind kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Bridges, the old swing bridge has a place on the Christmas Tree too.  Thankful for all the precious memories.

Speaking the rights-

Danny Johnson