Nonfiction. For the past month I have been trying to learn about the art of writing about the lives of others in a class from Stanford. I needed a story to tell. A local gentlemen agreed to humor me and share his life story with me. As a result, I have been interviewing him regularly. This afternoon, we chatted...again.

With a delightful chuckle, he proclaimed..."You are just a baby!"

95 years of living probably do make me look like a baby. I love his laugh and his sense of humor. I wasn't least bit offended because comments about my youth are few and far between these days.

Just before I left, his daughter asked me what the kids would do during our planned excursion to mining country with her father and his son. Of course, I explained the kids would join us because they are unwilling participants in all their mother's crazy adventures. I proceeded to told her how Kiahra proclaimed that when we left Pennsylvania, "At least I won't have to visit any more covered bridges." I then backtracked to a long weekend adventure exploring the Pennsylvania countryside with my family and crossing as many bridges as I could find.

At this point, Fred pipped up and said, "I know there is a covered bridge near Grass Valley. I don't know where, but there is one."

"Well, then I will find it because I am sure Kiahra will be thrilled to cross another covered bridge after crossing the country."

Laughter rolled.

I found the bridge. It is the longest single lane bridge in the country.

Someday Kiahra will laugh...