I trudged through the rain, not really sure where I was going.  All I knew was that I needed to be somewhere else.  I felt raindrops on my face, mixing with the tears falling down my cheeks. 
All around me, the fall colors were starting to make an appearance.  The vibrant oranges and yellows were dulled a little by the rain, but were still stunning.  The colors blurred together like a watercolor painting, surrounding the road on both sides.  The road was littered with patches of color too, shimmering as the leaves reflected off puddles on the pavement.
As I walked, I started to calm down.  I had always loved the rain.  Everything about it is amazing—the earthy smell, the feel of it on your skin, the sound of each drop as it touches down, shattering into a million tiny pieces.  Rain is always associated with sadness, but nothing makes me more content.  I wiped the last tears away from my eyes and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp November air.  With each breath I was bringing the rain inside me, letting it fill up my soul.
I paused for a second at a fork in the road.  I continued down the street on the left, the one I knew would take me to the bridge.  All that was down the other road was neat little houses with neat little people inside, living out their neat little lives.  The houses down this street were few and far between, which suited me just fine.
I neared the place where the road crossed over the creek.  It was a concrete bridge, cold and grey against the bright color of the trees.  I turned away from it and started to follow the river downstream.  Climbing over rocks and ducking under branches, I made my way down the creek.  The path was a bit slippery from the rain, but I had gone this way so many times that it wasn't a problem.  My feet treaded on the familiar path, walking towards a different bridge, my bridge.
Just around a bend in the river, there it was.  The old wooden bridge was quite a different sight from the main one on the road.  How long it had been there for, I had no idea.  It was sound though, strong enough to hold my weight.  It might have been painted blue at one point, but there were only small traces of paint left on the rough wood.
The wood creaked with the pressure of my footsteps.  I ducked under the railing and sat on the edge of the bridge, my feet dangling off the side.  I thought about the other times I had sat here, in this very spot.  Every time the pressures of life got to be a little too much for me, I came out here.  If I had an important decision to make, or even if I just had nothing to do, I always found myself walking to the bridge.  It had seen me through some rough times; it was my constant companion.
I remembered the first time I had stumbled upon my bridge.  I was on a run one day, and I tried to find a shortcut home through the woods.  Normally, I have a good sense of direction, but that day it failed me.  I walked around in circles for a while, and eventually came out by the creek.  I knew the road crossed over the creek at some point, so all I had to do was follow it and I would find my way back home.  I was about to start walking up the river when something caught my eye.  Going a little farther downstream, I saw a bridge.  It still looks exactly the same as the day I first saw it.  I fell in love with it immediately.  There was just something about it.
I heard a rumble of thunder somewhere off in the distance, and the sound of the rain splattering on the creek became even louder.  I stuck my hands in my sweatshirt pocket and swung my legs back and forth over the lazy stream.  How long I sat there, watching the raindrops making circles in the water, I don't know.  Time seemed to stop for a while.
Eventually, I stood up, careful not to hit my head on the railing.  I lingered, not wanting to leave.  I mustered up enough willpower to get myself off the bridge, and I walked back upstream.  My jeans were soaked through, and I started to shiver. 
The rain slowed to a drizzle.  I took my time, walking up the path much slower than when I had walked down.  I brushed by a little tree, feeling a shower of drops on me as I dislodged the droplets resting on its branches.
All too soon, I found myself back at the road.  I was cold and wet to the core.  My shoes made a squishing sound with every step I took.
I took a step down the road, heading back home, but something stopped me in my tracks.  I couldn’t make myself take another step.  I had always gone back before, back home, back to reality.  But what if…  What if I didn’t have to anymore?
Slowly, I turned towards where the road crossed the creek.  The bridge, so dull and unassuming before, suddenly seemed different.  It wasn’t just a bridge anymore.  It was a promise.
I stood there, considering.  Could I really do it?  If I walked across that bridge, I would be leaving everything I had ever known behind.  I had no plan, no destination.  But I had hope.  And that was all I needed.
I started walking, faster and faster.  With each step, the smile on my face grew.  I felt like there was nothing that could stop me.  I was free.
    I strolled through the emerging sunshine, not really sure where I was going.  All I knew was that I was going somewhere else.