The Nickel Bridge

Miraculously, the invisible bridge accepts the weight of our Chevrolet

Illustration: Joel MacDonald

Our car descends the long steep hill, 
fog from the mighty James River rises enveloping the road, 
shrouding the narrow two-lane bridge at the bottom of the hill 
in dense mist. 

Peering through the windshield I wonder as I wonder every morning, 
what would happen 
if when we get to the bottom of the hill the bridge is not there? 
I imagine the car rolling into the river crashing on the rocks. 

The river is wide, not deep, 
the rocks huge. 
I'm scared, but I'm more afraid of annoying my dad. 
He expects me to be brave. 

Holding my breath, I rely on his confidence
that the bridge we can’t see is still there.
That he will steer the car to the other side 
as he does every day. 

Miraculously, the invisible bridge accepts the weight of our Chevrolet and 
allows us passage 
through the early morning fog 
to school.