We were sitting eating takeaway pizza tonight and talking about the noisy sirens out in the street. Must be some sort of fire we speculated. Not a surprise given how dry and hot it was. I tried unsuccessfully to contact my brother in law Tony about our plans to take a boat trip on the Mississippi. The cell phone service was unavailable.
We decided, despite the heat, to go out for a walk along nearby Summit Avenue - a beautiful tree lined street that was home to F Scott Fitzgerald for a little while. The street seemed unusually quiet. Normally there are loads of people walking dogs, roller skating or just walking in the warm evening air.
A car drew up alongside us and a man leaned out. ‘Hey!’ he shouted, ‘Have you heard the news? Bridge on 35 has just fallen into the river. The whole thing! Right into the river!’
He drove on leaving us looking at one another. What was that about? We walked home and turned on the TV. And there it was –news that a bridge had come down during rush hour on one of the bridges that links Minneapolis and Saint Paul. Several people thought dead, many injured.
The 'phone rang and it was Tony. 'We're fine! You okay too?'
It was sobering and we felt sad for other families, who were probably coming in for evening meals and wondering why someone was late.
Life is fragile.
