fear of bridges

I was reminded yesterday, while walking around a trail at Hemlock Bluffs Nature Preserve, that there was a time when I was afraid of bridges.

(No, not that guy.)

(Yes, yes...very scary, right?)

At some point when I was a child I read or heard or saw some version of “The 3 Billy Goats Gruff”. 

So for some time after that I was afraid that if I crossed a bridge, a troll might grab me and try to eat me.

(Not that kind of troll.)

(Uh...no.)

(Okay sure, close enough.)

Anyway, I really don’t recall how old I was nor for how long this went on.

This fear applied to big bridges that you would drive over, or in my case, ride over, as I was clearly too young to drive. But smaller bridges that you’d walk over—those were scary.

I don’t remember it being a huge issue, like I don’t think I was scared enough to not go over a bridge, but I was very nervous about it.