I used to fear swing bridges. The sense of movement below my feet was unnerving, like the ground shifting when you expect it to offer stability. It was not until the urge to see what was beyond the swing bridge was greater than the fear that I took my first tentative steps. I now live in a land where the ground wobbles on a regular basis and the swing bridges, I have discovered, often lead to enchanting byways or challenging uplifts.
Writing this journal electronically, in the public domain, instead of scribbling furtively in my little notebook is a bit like stepping onto a swing bridge. I don’t know this place. I am aprehensive. Unsure. But I’m on my way.