San Francisco: A minimalist, Wedgewood-blue sky overlaid with brushstrokes of horsetail clouds. And the Bridge. Humming, thrumming Dutch Master-red contours of cables and concrete that talked to us as we walked its span.
I and my daughter and 7,000 other Girl Scouts and their moms (and some dads) were there to walk the Golden Gate Bridge last Saturday as part of the Golden Gate Bridging event that marks 5th- and 6th-grade girls’ transition from Junior to Cadette Girl Scout.
The symbolism seems particularly appropriate at this age. All legs and elbows and “Wow! You’ve gotten tall!,” the girls still want mom nearby but probably won’t for much longer, or at least won’t own up to it. Their lives are still wide open, their potential as vast as the ocean that spreads out from beneath our feet.
At the end of the almost two-mile walk our troop comes together for photographs and the parents surprise the girls with new Cadette sashes before we head down to the park at Crissy Field to do our own thing for a few hours at the festivities there.
Our previous late night in the hotel and full morning of sun and exercise has taken a bit of a toll on my daughter and me so we find a shady spot under a tree and I sit cross-legged with my back against a boulder. She first lays down on the grass and then, in a gesture which surprises and touches me, crawls over to nestle in my lap. I put my arms around her and we rest for a long time before we get up.
Although the weekend was packed with a lot of activities, what I will remember most is the weight of her 10-year-old’s body resting into mine, head leaning against my cheek, long legs draped out in front. As we rested, ankle-high blades of tender grass flickered rich Celtic shades of green with each gust of wind and the swish-splash of the waves against the breakers provided accompaniment to girls on a Bridge to Somewhere.
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