PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The Rusty Bridge

Bridges always make me think of Rusty. 

He sent letters til I was 10, telling of his adventures.  I kept a list back then, updating it every time he wrote. When I turned 18, I would follow in his footsteps. Yellowstone Natural Bridge was the last place he mentioned before we got the life-shattering call. 

I ended my list, put it in a tin can deep in my closet, and decided to take a safe path instead. 

Yesterday, I found the list.

“I lost my life in a different way, Big Brother,” I moaned.

This evening, I bought a backpack.

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Many thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers! One photo, 100 words… Why not join us?

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