Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: River (08/31/06)
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TITLE: The Footbridge | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gordon Whitehead
09/04/06 -
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“Tony” I think to myself. “Ah, Tony” now I know what those sirens of last night meant.
I had heard that a couple of boys were swimming in the river. This river, the one under the footbridge, it is such a death trap. Tony didn’t make it out. I continue to run and think of the many victims claimed in the river, and how most were entangled by the deceptive weeds that float innocently beneath the surface. I remember swimming in that river myself as a youth. “How foolish.” I shudder. I run on.
My run slows, my mind races. I think of Tony, and drift in thought to a winter’s Saturday. “Pin em, pin em” shouts the crowd. Tony has his opponent down; the referee flops from side to side to see if the shoulder blades are touching. The crowd shouts: “He’s gottem, give him the pin.” Finally, the ref’s hand slaps the mat and it is over. Two boys stand, exhausted, facing each other, shaking hands, and the ref grabs Tony’s hand and raises it high – the crowd claps and cheers with appreciation. Someone leans over and says to me: “He’s going to be a good one some day.”
I run over the footbridge again days later and wonder what I will see. Yesterday, balloons were added with more signs expressing love and sorrow for Tony. Today, I see there has been an addition. Someone has spray painted the path with a message. It reads: “I love you Tony.” My heart aches, a young girl suffers in torment with agony that her boyfriend is gone. She shows her faith, by hinting in her signs that eternity may find them together again. I wonder within myself – is there an eternity? I hope. I run on.
I run over the footbridge again several weeks later. The city haphazardly painted over the graffiti. Though you cannot read the message, I know what is under the carelessly covered graffiti -- it is a message to Tony, now covered, but I know it is there. I wonder: “does Tony know it is there?” I run on.
I run over the footbridge a month later, and it occurs to me; we might be forgetting Tony. The signs have faded, or have been taken down. The balloons are gone. The only thing left that expresses a memory of Tony on the footbridge is the twine – that orange bailing twine that held the first sign telling me the meaning of those 2:00 A.M. sirens. I run on.
I feel sad now, the pain of that evening floods into my mind’s eye. I wasn’t there, of course, but I can sense the emotion, the anxiety, the fear, and the death. The river, the footbridge, the wind, and the trees: They all send me a message, and I listen. I see a boy, on a dare, swimming out into the middle. But then, his breath shortens, the water is colder than he thinks, he struggles to get back, his chest tightens, his strength fails, and those weeds reach up and grab him. Like ghouls from the deep, they grab him and ensnare his feet. He panics, he struggles. “Call 911” shouts a friend. The sirens blare, but Tony goes under, never to be seen again as a breathing, living mortal. All this happened, while I slept on.
I run across the footbridge months later and still see the strong orange bailing twine, though somewhat frayed, still dangling from the side rails of the footbridge. It is what is left, all that is left of a commitment to remember forever. We promise never to forget, and maybe, in the recesses of our memory, we do remember. But outwardly, we forget. We forget the boy who wrestled for his life early one morning on a chilly spring day. Life gets busy, we get busy. Yet, I will never forget because the footbridge, the trees, the river, and the wind have told me the story. I trust now to eternity. I run on.
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