Rainbow Bridge

It is just a concrete motorway bridge spanning the M25. It is not magnificent, like the QEll that crosses the Thames. Nor is it the common low flat, nearly all the same, type bridge that is useless for navigation. My bridge, for that is what I used to call it, stands out from the rest. Maybe because it is so high up sitting between two sides of a deep man made valley with the eight lane motorway flowing rapidly below.

There is a simple elegance about this bridge. It is only one giant arch with a straight line across the top joining the two sides. The most basic of shapes. A curve and a line.

It is only when travelling at speed and you look up at the bridge and it seems like you’re standing still that you realize how big it is.

I used to call it my bridge because to me personally it joins together two parts of me. Like other bridges that join countries and counties together. They often mark boundaries. The same for me. The known from the unknown. When travelling home from very long journeys, days or weeks. My bridge marks the beginning of the known. The first undoubted sign that home is only about 40 minutes away. The sign is concrete and reads, welcome back, and not long now.

On the outward journey, just before the bridge, is a massive road sign it shows the road forking off in different directions. When you pass under the bridge into the unknown your path can take different routes. You will know doubt have a known destination but its route, its new undiscovered pleasures or sadness something to savour and look forward to.

It is towards the bridge, away from home that we are travelling now.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)