The other Sunday afternoon we packed a picnic and drove all the way across the Montana state line.
Truthfully, it isn’t that far away.
In all the ten years we have lived here, we had not yet been to the Swinging Bridge.
So we decided it was high time we checked that off of our list.
The first walk across the bridge, Wyatt held my hand. And I had too many butterflies in my stomach to stop and take pictures while swaying with the breeze across a rushing river . . .
Ok, so maybe there wasn’t any breeze.
Still, it swayed. Maybe that was from one too many fry pies . . .
The sign posted there said that no more than 5 people could be on the bridge at one time. Those signs make me nervous.
Probably filling their pockets with rocks.
We were on the way back across it here.
Wyatt didn’t need to hold my hand anymore.
What is this catch in my heart?!
If my first grader could be brave, then I suppose that I could, too.
This is a picture looking down from on the swinging bridge.
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