I went to a memorial service Monday for a woman who lived an amazing life and died at 103 years old. All by itself, that is astonishing. The memorial was lovely, the reception that followed was also very sweet, and I saw people that I haven’t seen for years. The event was being held in Virginia and I do live in that state.

After the reception, I tried to go home. 

I grew up in Maryland near the District Line. I visited downtown DC and spent lots of time driving around the area. A haunting fear at that time, caused by listening to my parents talk to my older siblings on the phone, was that I would suddenly find myself on a bridge, crossing into Virginia, with no way out. If this were to happen the wilds of Virginia beckoned, near places with names like Seven Corners and Baileys Crossroads. Supposedly it would take forever to get back. And there were no cell phones or GPS, so maybe I would have to use a pay phone in Falls Church (!) to ask for directions or explain that I just threw a rod on the car and needed help. It was possible in those days, to reverse the charges from a pay phone, but then the call had to be swift or it would be cut short.

And those bridges were just waiting to trap the unwary and send them into that wilderness. 

Well, now I live in Virginia and there aren’t any more bridges across the Potomac than there were when I was young. It is astonishing that there is a thirty mile stretch of the Potomac River just outside DC with no bridges, from the American Legion bridge carrying the Beltway across the river to up to Point of Rocks. The header picture is Great Falls, on the Potomac between those two bridges.

We all know where this story is going. As I and my driver headed out from the service which, remember, was being held in Virginia, we were invited to cross into Maryland over the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. We managed to say no, politely.  We were offered Key Bridge, which we also just barely avoided, then Chain Bridge, and then finally we were offered an unsigned fork in the road. Earlier signs, all mixed up in some serious road construction, had said … something … and the GPS looked as if we were supposed to take the exit. Ha. We hit the Beltway going the wrong way and immediately crossed the American Legion bridge. Maryland had waited patiently for fifty years.

Suffice it to say, it is not entirely simple to get back on the Beltway from that particular spot. This is not the vehicle we used for our trip but it kind of felt like it after we wandered in the Maryland wilderness for a bit.

I’m going out to play with more friends Tuesday so here’s a lovely picture of a journey that does not involve bridges.