The faces and images of the bridge collapse are heartbreaking and difficult, and even now, unbelieveable. The families and the memories made are held even tighter now that loved ones are missing or found lifeless. My heart goes out to familes and friends of victims and those still missing.

As I see the images, in the pictures, the traffic signs no longer standing high over the river, the bridge torn about, I recall my own rides on that bridge. As a youngster we rode over that bridge many times during the year; living in the southern metro and family living in Arden Hills and further north, we frequented that bridge. As a younger child I remember having fear with being on the bridge, not because it didn’t appear sturdy, but because I was and am afraid of heights. I would cover my eyes and hold my breath. The bridge was so high in the air and so long, so so long especially when holding your breath. As a grown up I could no longer cover my eyes, so I would instead avoid looking down. I focused on the traffic signs overhead; “Oh good, University is right ahead.” The traffic signs I remember so vividly, as if I traveled the bridge this morning. It is so unbelievable.