Tsūjun Bridge The Stone Arch—and My Hand, a Split Second Too Late

The moment I looked up from the riverbank at Tsūjun Bridge, I stopped in my tracks—the stone arch was bigger than I’d expected. The stones were stacked around a huge opening, with greenery beyond it. I couldn’t help wanting to peek under the bridge.

I’d come to see the water burst from the bridge. As soon as it did, I stopped tracing the stonework with my eyes and followed the water instead. I compared the water near me with the water beyond the arch, lifting my head again and again to follow its flow.

I was watching the water fall into the river when a fine spray drifted toward me on the breeze. I thought, “Wait, is it coming all the way over here?” By then, my cheek already felt cool. I lifted one hand, but just a little too late.

I kept looking up to watch the water, then frantically raising my hand only after the spray arrived. I laughed out loud at how I’d gotten the order of things completely backwards. I left one hand beside my face and decided to take it all in, spray included.

Still smiling, I looked at the arch again and remembered the bridge had been built to carry water. It has stood since 1854, and there I was, amazed by it all over again. The history I’d read before visiting suddenly didn’t feel so distant.

After watching the water rush down, I touched my cheek. Remembering that cool splash made me smile again. What I’ll remember from spring at Tsūjun Bridge is the huge stone arch—and that one tiny drop I thought I’d neatly dodged, but didn’t.