Early one morning in late July while I was participating in a weekend art show I got up earlier than usual and left the campground to grab a cup of coffee and head to the park. The morning was exhilarating and beautiful. I had plenty of time so I decided to drive around and see some of the area.  I drove the back roads as I usually do just before I discover I am lost.  This time I found myself in Peshestin, a small town on the west edge of the Wenatchee Valley.
  Of course you know that Wenatchee Valley is where some of the best peaches, apples, pears and cherries are grown.  If you drive west from Wenatchee you pass by Peshestin, on into Leavenworth and eventually over the mountains for a hundred more miles to Everett.  However, back in Peshestin it was still very quiet on Sunday morning. The people will be gearing up for the big yearly excitement in a few weeks when the apple crop is harvested.  Peshestin has a fruit factory or what ever you call it.  It does for apples, cherries and pears what the grain elevators a little farther east do for wheat. 

I noticed a small bridge just out of town. It grabbed my attention so completely and immediately I had to stop. It was hypnotic.  The bridge crossed some railroad tracks in front of me and the road went off towards some orchards. It seemed to cross more than just railroad tracks; it seemed to connect to limitless time and distance.  I thought of what had happened to me; places I had been and people I had known.  I thought of what could be in store for me. Was this bridge an obstacle to be crossed or was this bridge an easy passage over an obstacle? Did this bridge symbolize an entrance to something after this life? Are those whom we have loved but died; waiting there for us? My thoughts sparked so many questions; I felt an exigent need to cross this most beautiful mystery and get the answers I was sure were waiting for me on the other side.  As I began to cross the bridge; walking slowly and carefully, observing and noticing everything I could see around me I experienced a peace and calmness that seemed to last for always. Suddenly I realized that I needed to return to Leavenworth.  I turned around and never quite finished my crossing.  My adventure across the bridge would have to wait.  Eventually I will cross the bridge, as all of us will . . . Then I will discover what is beyond the bridge.