you see a midshipman. you see another midshipman. they are multiplying, walking around in twos and threes. the midshipmen obscure your vision. there is nothing left to see but midshipmen.
you are crossing the severn river. you look to the side and see another bridge. am i on the right bridge? you wonder. you’re not sure, so you drive to the other bridge. you have a sense of deja vu. you are now caught in an eternal loop, crossing back and forth across the severn river.
you sniff the air. there is a distinctive salty smell in the air. is it the brackish water? no, you realize. it’s old bay. you inhale the air, smiling. you feel tears trickling down your cheeks, and one slips inside your mouth. you can taste the old bay in your tears.
you feel a pang of hunger. you look around for somewhere to buy food. you spot a building, and sigh in relief. there may be no grocery stores in a ten-mile radius, but at least there are three different places that offer handcrafted ice cream.
“croquet,” someone says. you ears perk up. visions of johnnies in togas and formal wear fill your mind. you can’t wait for this year’s game.
swimming off your community beach, a jellyfish stings you arm. another one stings your leg. you pay it no mind, because the brackish water that flows within your veins has made you immune to the jellyfish.
in your orioles jersey, you spot someone wearing purple and black. you hiss. a ravens fan. never mind that they are fans of a completely different sport–it’s about true loyalty. things are going to get ugly. if someone wearing navy colors passes between you, there will be a war.
as a woman wearing a bonnet passes you on the sidewalk, a horse-drawn carriage rattles down the brick road. you fear that you have traveled
back in time. when the town crier tips his hat in your direction, you
remember – watermark tours.
the bay bridge is endless. the first time you crossed it, you thought it was long. now you know it is eternal. not only does is stretch across the water, it reaches into the future and the past.