Biwako Ohashi Bridge from the Lakeshore on a Spring Evening Today, I looked at the bridge I’d thought of as a way across, this time from the side

One April evening, I got out of the car at Biwako Ohashi Kome Plaza and walked toward the lake. From the tiled walkway, I turned to face the water, and the Biwako Ohashi Bridge stretched away beside me. I’d always thought of it as a road that simply took me straight to the other side, but from here I could see its gentle rise midway across. First, I followed that curve with my eyes.

I rested one hand on the railing and held the edge of my coat with the other. The spring evening breeze kept brushing my hair against my cheek. Bright patches and shadows beneath the bridge lay side by side on the water. Each time light slipped between the piers, the same lake looked different. I thought I was watching the bridge, but before I knew it, I was watching the water too.

My friend came up beside me and said, “That bit rises, doesn’t it?” I’d been watching the same curve, so I said, “Exactly.” I’d heard the bridge rises in the middle to leave room for boats to pass underneath. Picturing boats passing under the same bridge I drive across made me want to peer between the piers too.

After talking with my friend, I looked over the bridge again from near one end. The farther away they were, the smaller the piers looked; beyond them, the bridge seemed to join the opposite shore. On a map it’s just a line. Here, I could see each pier standing apart, with water between them. If I’d been in a hurry to cross, I might have missed all of this.

As the light on the lake began to change, my friend and I talked about heading back to the car. Still, my eyes kept returning to the point where the bridge rises. Next time I cross it, I think I’ll remember how it looked from the side. Taking in a bridge built for travel had become part of the fun of driving around the lake.