(Capilano Suspension Bridge)
If you missed or would like to re-read the first installment, here's the link.
Visiting B.C.
The rain stopped, the sun shone but I was glad I hadn't packed flip-flops or shorts. There was a chill in the air. B.C. was definitely part of Canada. One of the best parts, I began to think.Floyd's parents took pride in showing us their province. There was so much to see and do. We took a water taxi to Granville Island, a sky train to the Science World, and visited the Capilano Suspension Bridge. Floyd and I were still gawking at the scenery when his parents crossed the bridge. I followed him onto the bridge. This is such a beautiful place. I took another step. Look at that blue sky; it sure is a beautiful day. I took a few more steps. Just look at how tall those trees are. I was halfway across that bridge. Look at that river. Gulp. That raging river. The bridge started to sway more and more. I could fall. What will stop me? I wrapped my hand tighter around the rope rail. This flimsy thing? Um, no. Not. I tried to take another step, but I just couldn't. I was blocked by a clear image of my death. There I was—a leg bent unnaturally one way, an arm bent unnaturally the other, and a boulder-sized dent in my skull. Oh, why did I leave Manitoba? It's so beautiful there. And the snow is so soft. I shut my eyes really tight, but when I opened them, I was still in B.C.; I was still on that bridge.
"Hey, Lyndi, what's the matter?" I guess he'd noticed that I was no longer following him.
Oh, nothing. Just my sure death, I wanted to tell him but all I managed to say was, "I can't—"
"You can't what?"
"This bridge. I want to get off this bridge."
"Don't be silly. You have to walk—"
"I'm not being silly. And I'm not going to take one step more."
He took a step toward me—the bridge swayed wildly with each step.
"Don't do that," I roared.
He stopped. "Okay, but you can't stay there. Other people want to cross."
"I really don't care what—"
"Just look at me. Walk to me." He kept encouraging me with so much patience, so much love.
I love you so much, for you—only for you. I took one step and another and another.
"That's right, very good. See, you can do this."
I didn't cross that bridge. I walked to Floyd, and together we made it safely to the other side.
A horrendous thing happened to us on the other side of that bridge? I will reveal all...
Sharing my author journey...
You know I really think someone should write a game book. You know like they have for Scrabble and Clue. Life would be so much easier. Except maybe not as much fun. I think I hit on another rule (are there any rules?) this week. I was entering writing contests all willy-nilly like that. Because, like I think I've mentioned before, I think it's fun. But then this week I was thinking first you submit a story for publication in their magazine. Then when you know they like your writing style, it's a fair woman's odds that you stand a chance of winning one of their contests. What do you think? Does that make sense?
And in other news, we're getting a new deck.
