Our destination was a picturesque little island in the Potomac River but a fixed bridge, too low to pass under, had us docking on the mainland side. I couldn’t help but think of the island as the “right” side of the bridge as opposed to the mainland being on the “wrong” side.
The island has lovely homes with well-kept gardens. On a previous trip I’d crossed the bridge with the dogs and walked the little town but was grateful to get back alive. A little old silver-haired lady walking two small dogs obviously do not incite motorists to slow down on the bridge!
Thus safer to walk on the mainland side where the road, leading away from the island and the bridge, has, on one side, a wide shoulder that dips away into a grassy, weedy, messy bit. The other side of the road, which borders the river, is built up with very little shoulder to walk.
The smell was bad, the litter inexcusable. (And if the litter was picked up the smell would mostly go.) Bottles, cans, food wrappers, fast food boxes, dirty diapers, the list goes on and on. Flies, ants and worse abound, enjoying the smorgasbord.
While wondering whose responsibility it would be to clean up, another thought came to mind. Ask yourself the question:
Which side of the bridge does my mind live?