A Village Tryst
The bridge was lonely. In a small village, with only one way to cross the river, she had no companion.
The old hotel added an extra room at the very top. A fine view from a fine window, down to the river, down to the bridge.
Villagers from both sides of the river used their bridge often while going about their daily business and the bridge always paid attention. At least until now. Now she was distracted.
The new hotel room was at first proud to accommodate his guests. Plush and well-furnished, he took special pleasure in their compliments, but his interest in the visitors quickly waned.
The bridge looked up at the new room and ignored the villagers who were crossing back and forth.
The room looked down at the bridge, forgot about his clients, and noticed her interest. His was sparked.
Day after day they watched each other, their mutual contemplation growing and with it their desire to be together. But how?
A bridge, a room. What could they do?
On Thursday afternoon, the villagers put up a new sign to replace the faded and unreadable old one – Lea Bridge. Lea was the river so she must be the bridge.
She noticed a sign on the hotel too – ‘New Room!’ He was new, so he must be the room. An idea coursed through her structure.
A bridge, and a room. Could she do it?
On Saturday morning, the villagers gathered on both sides of the river, scratching their heads to ponder the inexplicable sight. Their bridge had gone.
The hotel owner was equally perturbed. His beautiful new room had similarly vanished, leaving the paying guests to awaken staring at the sky.
No bridge, no room. She’d done it.
In the small church on the outskirts, a newly married couple, very much in love, walked down the isle and out into the morning sunshine. She now no longer had to look up at him, and he no longer had to look down at her. They looked into each others’ eyes, and smiled.
No longer a bridge, no longer a room. But she a bride, and he a groom.
She had offered him a part of her and he had accepted… the gift of her ‘g’.