I parked the car along the road. The covered bridge was close but not too close. I honestly parked the car closer than I wanted to. I was fighting the urge to walk. It wasn't super cold, but it was just starting. Had it been spring and not fall I would have been wearing shorts. It's funny how you get used to the cold. Well, I don't really get used to the cold. Only because it just keeps getting colder. I just notice that 40 degrees spring is warm enough to wear shorts. 40 degrees fall is ball-freezing weather.
    I started my walk along the white line. I checked my balance. One foot in front of the other, and I was dead sober. For a split second I let my mind wander. I allowed the black damp pavement to become a bottomless pit, and I was Evel Knievel! Not even this light brisk breeze could knock me off the tight rope.
    The moon caught in a puddle, it drug me away from circus act of the mind, and here above the two solid yellow lines; hung the moon. Even a shallow puddle of piss could shine back the beauty of the moon. I mused at this thought. I was most sure this puddle in particular wasn't piss, and I assure you that it was just rain. It had stormed the night prior, and today the fat fall clouds had misted the entirety of the suns appearance. As I approached the pool of water, caught by a poor asphalt job, I marveled at the nondiscriminatory way that the trapped water reflected the moon, and in turn the moon shone on everything around. I guess in my own way pulled out the thought that neither had anything to really do with the other. Yet, they took the time to complement each other. The moon shed light for all to see, and the water reflected back in a way I couldn't. I don't think shouting at the moon would do much good, but a sparkle of small light... It just might make it back, and make the moon that much brighter.
    When I finally reached the pool of discarded could thoughts, I tapped it with my shoe. The water moved, and the moon moved. They were in a collective dance. One so beautiful I can't describe. Beneath the moon's captivating reflection I noticed leaves. These were the weak leaves. Fall was not yet full blown. Some leaves had turned, but most had yet to. Life in a wooded area was just a few days from becoming out right gorgeous. These leaves at the bottom of this pool had taken the inevitable plunge early. Why shouldn't they? I think I might do the same myself.
    This is where I found the majority of my happiness: between the lines. Yellow on my left, and White on my right: Home. The road was lined with trees. For amusement I tried to make out exactly which one was which. From the puddle I surmised that there where birches, beach, oak, and maple there. The trees became a collective unit. The strong leaves held out the light. Deciphering the bark of each was next to impossible. This gave my mind leeway to contemplate that those strong leaves could be there for some time. Some leaves even way past winter and into spring. Holding on until spring. These strong leaves wouldn't let go until the new leaves pushed them off. I'm not one of them. I belong in the puddle.
    I walked to the bridge with a quiet mind, after that. Silence. I welcomed it. The realized it wasn't quiet after all if I was welcoming it. I lived that dual life long enough. Should I or shouldn't? There would be no more questioning. The bridge had two lanes. It was a tight two-lane bridge, but two lanes more or less. There was a walkway on each side. I choose to stay home. In between the lines. There were four "windows" I chose the third one. I hopped the rail that separated the walkers from the drivers, and sat on the ledge. I looked down and pondered my trajectory. I couldn't just push out. The bridge wasn't high enough, nor was the water deep enough. The only way to do this right would be to stand up, jump and hope I could get into the dive position before I hit the water. The only way to be sure this worked, was to make sure my neck hit in just the right place and broke. I wasn't one hundred percent sure the water was cold enough to catch hypothermia. I lit a smoke. My last one from my last pack.

I sat there smoking. Thinking of nothing. When the cigarette was to the filter, I flicked it. I flicked it as far and as hard as I could. I watched it hit the river, and the cherry died. I followed the cigarett's remains as it returned to me. That is the way the world works. An action. Then the return of that action coming towards the actor. Amazing.
    I stood up. Ready for the plunge. Thinking only of sweet relief as I did. For whatever reason I grabbed my necklace. I ran my fingers over the embossed figure of Saint Jude. The Saint of lost causes. Right there it hit me. For the longest time I thought I was a lost cause. No purpose, and no hope. Every night before bed I would play and think of Saint Jude. I would hope every night, that some how he would manifest and show me a brighter future, but alas he never did. After some time I began to believe this false assumption. This thought that I was such a piece of shit not even he cared. This is were that got me thinking like that. Standing here on a ledge. Hoping for a clean break. A clean break is exactly what I was going to get.
    So I jumped off the ledge. Not into the water, but onto the path. I jumped the rail, and got into my respective lane. This time my mind was silent. That, or I can't remember what I was thinking. Maybe for the first time in five years my head was clear. I felt calm. No, I was calm. With a smile I returned to the puddle. The puddle I felt that I belonged on the bottom of. The moon or earth had moved. I would say that both celestial bodies had. For, the moon was now cut by shadows of the strong leaves. I bent down and touch the poll this time. Cool to the touch, I set it to a dance. I watch until it once again became calm. I placed my necklace into it. The water nearly didn't cover it. The wind, as with approval, picked up a notch. As with any strong leaf would do they all danced and sang. I too will go as the wind says. As the tree leaves rustled I left my inhibitions in the puddle. Saint Jude can keep them. Below the water and the moon. As I unlocked my car... must have known all along I had plans of returning if it was locked... I thought to my self, " I will be the water. Reflecting all that is shown me. Reflecting with out discrimination. I will be like the moon. Shinning on all with out holding any light for my self. I will be like the strong leaf. I will weather this terrible winter I find myself in. I am not a lost cause. Lost causes are for the bottoms of piss puddles... and poorly constructed roads."