At the next rest area on the highway, she pulls into the parking lot, takes out her ice chest full of snacks and her camera bag. She sits at a picnic table with a view of the bridge over a river at the bottom of a forested ravine.
"Oh, George would have loved this place." she muses.
George had passed away three years ago leaving a hole for loneliness to invade her existence. Her daughter had seen its affect on her and insisted she move closer to her grandchildren. Nora didn't argue.
After drinking a caffeine laced soda, she grabs her camera bag and walks onto the bridge. She peers down at the river. The slow moving water mirrors the trees and boulders along the banks. She loves images of reflections. She takes her camera out of the bag, fiddles with the settings and searches for a good composition.
Looking east, Nora sees a deer on the riverbank. She takes a few shots and checks the image on the LCD screen on the back of the camera. The deer is in perfect focus. Next to the deer, on the water's surface, is an image of a young bride at an altar waving at the camera. Nora recognizes the young girl and the setting. It is her own wedding.
Nora blinks and looks back at the river. There is nothing unusual.
Nora walks to the other side of the bridge and looks downstream to the west. A fisherman is standing on an outcropping. She raises her camera, positions the fisherman in the frame and clicks. After taking three shots, she checks her LCD monitor. On the surface of the water in front of the fisherman is the image of a frail woman in a hospital bed. The old woman and the fisherman are waving at the camera. Nora recognizes the woman's features. They are hers.
A shiver crawls up and down Nora's spine. She runs back to the picnic area, gathers up her things and drives off heading north over the bridge.