Yearning
Jocelyn Frohn Wind soothes my skin with its crisp touch, like fingertips brushing against my blushed cheeks. My anticipation runs like my feet, skipping over each other in patterns that dance with each step I take. I await it. The dividing line between two states shown in green and orange paint. Pennsylvania and New Jersey embrace at this point in the water so it seems, as I look down to observe the rushing current below. This bridge is special. Anticipation wanders across it. Hungry ducks feed below it. Whether you are walking from one end of it to the other, you await the labelled line in the middle. To be able to stand in two places simultaneously. What a strange thought, I think to myself. How I am in one state of bliss in two states at once. I’ve made plans to meet you on this bridge, to embrace you. How one day we would hold each other tightly in one another’s arms for the first time. My heart beats for it. I picture it in my mind: You would lean over the rail with that sly look in your eye and tell me that you told me so. Told me what? I would ask you with a shy smile. You would reply with a glimmer in your eyes, I told you we would make it.
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