The BridgeA Story by George CoombsPlease read with careThe Bridge John slowly returned to the village. The path through the surrounding forest was fresh with recently fallen rain. Leaves wore raindrops like glistening jewels and blades of grass quietly glowed in the early evening light. Mother was nearing the end of her life. The wise one had visited; the broken bridge near the village only seemed broken. In reality there was no seperation. Mother's illness had been long and difficult. John, guided by the wise one tended her with skill and devotion yet, the time was coming. Mother was resting now, as she often did in the afternoon, John needed time and space. Slowly and quietly he walked on. Occasionally he glanced up at the clear blue sky. Tall trees arched above him adorning the path with patches of light as the sun shone through their branches. Someone was approaching; it was the wise one. “Hello dear friend” John called out “I have just come from the bridge; it seemed broken to me with no connection to the other side.” The wise one smiled; kindness shone through his aged eyes and a breeze passed through his long grey hair. Around him he wore a cloak of deep blue “That bridge is special my son” the wise one replied “How's mother?” They sat down together “My son, she has passed on” John burst into tears. The wise one put a comforting arm around him. “My son, your care has been known by angels in the highest heaven. You have been a shining precious jewel in the village now, we must return to the bridge.” They arose and walked together. Soon they were near the bridge, John gasped in quiet astonishment. The bridge was whole, not broken anywhere at all. John's mother was there, she was calm and peacefully radiant. “Yes” said the wise one “The bridge is the bridge to the other side, there is change, there is being alive differently, there is no separation which some call death.” “That is true” said John's mother “I go now yet will return often, I and all who love you will be near, often and John, when your time comes I will be here waiting for you. The lady went across the bridge. John could just discern others waiting for you. “We must go now John” said the wise one “This forst is known as the forest of learning, we both have much to find” Slowly, they walked away.
George Coombs (420 words)
© 2017 George CoombsFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorGeorge CoombsBrighton and Hove, Southern, United KingdomAboutI am a retired lecturer from Hove in Southrn England. I write poetry, stories, essays and also draw and paint more..Writing
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