Bridge to the past

Disney has turned one of my favorite children's books into a movie, and I'm not sure how I feel about the idea. The book is Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson and the basic story was about two kids who didn't quite fit in and how they used the power of their imaginations to create their own world, one imaginary and one reality. It ends quite sadly, but it still inspired years of creativity and play in my backyard and with the neighbors. I hear the author's son is involved in the production of the film, so I'm sure it's true to the book.

When I was a kid, I never fit in. I often lost myself in the plotlines of a story, and when I read this one, I loved the idea that it took so little for someone to find a place in the world...or to create their own. So I did.

There was a creek through my parents' backyard...bordered by rhododendron bushes so tall an 8 or 9 year old could easily crawl under them and sit for hours. And I did. I would salvage scraps of wood from the woodpile to use as chairs and wirespools to use as a table. I picked chives and imagined I could mix postions with them. I fashioned a fishing pole from a branch and a vine. I caught more minnows with my hands than I did with that thing, but I would sit there for hours, making up stories in my head and dangling the vine into the creek. Sometimes, I'd even jump it, or take off my shoes and dip my toes in the water. Both of those were quite daring, though, since both were the sort of things my parents would forbid. I was never a bold child - never willing to even test the corners of my parents' disapproval.

One year, a tree fell during a storm, and provided me with a natural boundary between the yard and my space. I gave the land a name, and spent every weekend down by the creek, playing outside. From time to time, Mom would come tp the edge of the back deck and call my name, to make sure I hadn't run off. Otherwise, it was all mine.

Then a neighbor moved into the house next door. Her back yard sloped off much as ours did... though to a different section of the creek. In my child's state of pride in what my imagination had created, I shared the idea with her and loaned her the book. She was nearly as enchanted as I was, and for the next year we ran between her yard and mine, somestimes playing, sometimes running from her little brother who wanted to be part of everything we did. Her dog, Molly, was the official mascot and joined us whenever we were out.

As with all things, this too came to an end. It was slowly...the neighbor became more interested in New Kids on the Block and Nintendo than in playing outside. My classes at school got harder, and I took up field hockey after school. Our games moved indoors and included more people. When we did go outside, it was for what she deemed "more dignified" sports, like badminton. I changed schools to the public school she went to, and found friends my own age (she was two grades behind me).

The tree that fell back then has long since disintegrated. I've not been back there in years to check on the status of the creek and the minnows and the rhododendron. Sometimes, I think memories are best left in the mind and not revisited. At least, not without reason.

Thanks Flash - your last post made me start thinking of this...