Funny how things change over time. Or (better, I'm sure), evolve. When I lived about a mile from the Chester River Bridge, I'd find myself walking into town most every day, crossing the bridge over and back, sometimes more than once. It was my happy, open, connection space. My friends (particularly on Facebook) were aware of it because I took lots of pictures. Everyone who drove the bridge was aware of it because there is nowhere to hide or fade into the scenery while walking the bridge. That last part didn't bother me at the time, though I've come to understand that it does now. I no longer live walking distance from town, though do have occasion to drive in frequently. And if opportunity permits, I'll walk. And almost always toward the water. But lately, when I've reached the bridge, I don't progress much further before turning around. The force field of solitude that used to surround me, even as cars would drive by - some silently, some honking, some waving, a few being rude - seems to have vanished. It's funny when change happens. The old habits and patterns can lose their motivation, even become empty. And we adjust. In this case, I think I'm responding to (or have been spoiled by) the blessing of solitude, as soon as I walk out out my front door. No cars, no people, and no sense of being watched or on display. Grateful for that, and will enjoy it as long as I am given that blessing.