The Trestle

I have passed by this trestle all my life that I can remember. It’s an icon for me, as those of you who even remotely look at my posts will already know. It demonstrates to me over the last few year how things can change. It has gone from rusty black to shiny white with a flag. But still there are those reflections in the water. Those reflections. Our lives are reflections. We are reflections of who we have grown up with, of where we have grown up. We are reflections of our experiences be they bad or good. We are reflections of the unknown.

I have had the privilege of living in seven decades, in two different centuries, and two different millenia. How many people can say that? It has all been good. I have not accomplished nearly as much as I thought I would, but it has been good. I will continue to go on, and I will now reflect the values which I have gathered over this unique time in which I live. Many don’t agree with me, some do. I anger some people. Some I do not. I am what I am, I cannot help it. I reflect my nature into the river of life which flows past me each and every day, just as surely as the railroad trestle casts it’s reflection into the Chattooga river. I am the old, rusty black trestle. I think it casts a deeper and more moving reflection. I hope that as I continue to live, I can affect my children and grandchildren to have values which they will not compromise, because they will need them in the future as their own river runs beneath them.

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