The two stood on the bridge. The Kissing bridge was theirs. Under it the creek rolled past. They held hands. And kissed.
“I think I fell in love with you here.”
But it wasn’t on the bridge. It wasn’t in the park. Not even while doing yoga. It was the small town. So romantic. It felt like anything could happen. Even love.
“I may have always loved you, even before we met again here.”
It wasn’t the first time they had met. But the first time was brief. The time they spent together in this place lasted longer.
They pulled each other close. Listened to the creek sounds below. A child could be heard running in the park. And their dog was nearby. They didn’t live here when they met. And if they fell in love here, they moved apart. They both left alone.
But like the old legend. Love is a thread connecting those it bonds forever. And they returned, one at a time. To the Kissing Bridge. To love.
They didn’t need starbursts. They didn’t need marble halls. They had each other now. And life in a mountain town. And the Kissing Bridge. It was a part of their daily walks.
“I love this bridge.”
“And I love you for loving this bridge.”
Some people feel like love comes and goes. Then it won’t come back again. And yes, before this love had mostly gone. But one of them learned a valuable lesson about love. It was a lesson the other taught. Maybe the bridge itself taught. Time can teach many things to an open heart. Most of all the lesson was how closed their heart had been. For years.
It was like a door. You imagine it to be wide open. In fact you feel the draft. But all the time it is only a crack. A small un-inviting crack which people pass and don’t notice. Why not come in, they sat on the inside wondering. Why not love me? But love is open. And the door was not open.
But they were together now. Together in the magical park. It was their bridge. Of course others used it. They walked dogs. They rode bikes or jogged. Some even paused like they. But it was only their kissing spot. Only the most romantic place in their world. It was just a bridge. In a park. Crossing a small creek.
But even the most simple places can have deep beauty.
“Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready for this moment for a long time.”
They were both ready. And they were both nervous. They had each told their families. But their families didn’t understand them. And many didn’t bother to show for their day. They didn’t see their love. They didn’t understand the connection they shared. Some felt it was a mistake. And wrong.
If they could stand on the Kissing Bridge, and kiss. If they could know the passion the two felt. Then they wouldn’t think about right and wrong. It wouldn’t be a world of men and women, black and white, rich and poor. The truth would be clear. And the truth is only love is real. Everything else is a lie. There isn’t gay and straight. There is only love.
But we don’t live in a world which understands this truth. And this world hadn’t made it easy for them to be together. But through it all. All they could see was love. They never saw problems. They never saw judgement. Just love, their love. And today they were going to share it with the world. As much of it willing to be a part.
They stood a moment longer. The Kissing Bridge was comfortable. In the park friends waited. A group a chairs under a tree. A pastor friend who saw their love. They released hands. Tradition had to be changed because they weren’t traditional. One walking down the isle, and one waiting. They wanted to walk together. And they did.
They believed in ceremony. In ritual. In the power of bonds, like love. But they wanted to make them their own. Because they were not like those many before. Through the ages many have loved. But they had chosen a different path. They knew it and couldn’t deny.
In the future they’ll come back to this spot in the park. They will still have the Kissing Bridge. But now they have the love tree. The place where they turned a moment into eternity.