the bridge

The bridge
Well my week in NY is over and iv begin my trip round the USA on Amtrak. When i ask myself where am I going? I think Boston is only 4 hours up the track. So why should it take 5 weeks? Perhaps I will find out, maybe I will not. I did toy with the idea of going to Europe not USA but i realised without Erin’s bit of French I would be lost, literally. I am not sure I am any less lost now. So many people in the service industry seem not to be able to speak English, and of course I don’t speak American.
Last night I handed over Ruth my daughter into the hands of BA for her flight home. This year has been a year of privilege for me. In February I came to NY with Daniel my son for a few days. I suppose you can go anywhere but just to be away from what you do and asked to be for a while with someone who is precious to you is a privilege. And I have had the time this year to do that with Daniel and Ruth my daughter. I am more aware of the memories I have when I came with my father many years ago.
On the train back to NY it seemed so quiet. I decided to take the subway to Brooklyn Bridge and walk the bridge to see the lights of the financial district. It is an amazing site seen many times in pictures and films. I wonder how many lights are burning before me I and I ask myself what difference does it make when I am at home if I turn the toilet light of when finished? But believe I have to respond positively to the bit of creation God has entrusted to me.
The walk is very windy, not me, the just the weather and exposure, and very noisy with all the traffic pouring out of Manhattan. Then there is the noise of the runners and the crazy cyclists on the wooden floor of the bridge. The boards chatter depending on the speed of the cyclists the fat lazy ones get little response. Those lean, mean, fast city boys and girls get a drum roll sound from the responsive wooden boards.


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