The Bridge of Hesitation

On at least two evenings a week, I still find myself walking that path along the river that leads to the large stone bridge. Known to the locals as The Bridge of Hesitation. It’s not called that anymore but long ago when Kingston was known as the music district, you could see men hovering on the bridge. Caught in a perpetual stare at the lights and sound of drums beating out of the bars. You could watch them for hours as your own entertainment, caught in hesitation, wondering whether to indulge or return to their partners.

But if sometimes I am seen up upon that bridge it is not that I am in the pleasure-seeking mood. I am simply enjoying standing there leant up against that stone ledge waiting for the sun to set. Surveying my surroundings and appreciating the changes taking place. I seem to be up there a lot more these days. With all that change, there’s much to see.