The Bridge Across the River

6-8 min read
19 pages
7+

Long ago, two villages sat on opposite sides of a wide river and hardly ever spoke. Then a big storm flooded them both, and the farmers and the makers began to help each other and build a bridge together. By the time it was finished, the bridge joined the two villages, and the people had become friends.

Long ago, in a green valley with tall mountains all around, there were two villages: Brookfield and Riverbend.

A wide, rushing river ran between them. The villages were very close, but each one sat on its own side of the water. Nobody crossed over to visit. Nobody waved hello. For years and years, the two villages hardly said a word to each other.

In Brookfield, the people were farmers. They grew wheat, apples, and fat orange pumpkins. In Riverbend, the people were good with their hands. They made tables and chairs, hammers and saws, and clay pots and bowls.

Both villages had plenty of everything. But nobody had a friend across the river—and nobody even noticed.

Then one summer, a big, dark storm rolled over the valley. The wind howled and the rain poured. The river grew and grew until it spilled into both villages.

The water washed away the crops in Brookfield and knocked down the houses in Riverbend.

At last the storm was over. People from both villages came out to see what was left. The water had carried away so much of what they had worked on for so long. Everyone felt very sad.

In Brookfield, the farmers stood by their muddy fields. The wheat and pumpkins were gone. They worried there would be no bread this winter.

In Riverbend, the workshops were knocked flat. Hammers were bent and saws were snapped. Now there was nothing to fix the houses with—and nothing to make things with. The people of Riverbend hung their heads.

For the first time, trouble had come to both villages at once. Nobody could fix this alone. So the oldest, wisest man in each village called everyone down to the river to talk about helping each other. The water was calm again, and the people of Riverbend rowed across in boats.

The old man from Brookfield spoke first. “We saved some food, and we’ll share it with you,” he said. “But our crops are gone, and our plows are broken. We can’t grow more food without them.”

The old man from Riverbend nodded. “We can make you new plows and shovels,” he said. “But our houses fell down. We need lots of strong hands to clear the mud and build them up again.”

The people of both villages looked at one another. They all knew it: one person couldn’t budge a big log, but lots of hands together could lift it right up. So they made a happy plan. They would build a bridge across the river! Then they could visit each other whenever they liked.

The next day, the people of Riverbend rowed over, and everyone got to work. The farmers showed them how to water and weed young plants. In return, the Riverbend folks showed the farmers how to hold a hammer and build things good and strong. It was hard work, and lots of fun!

Together they hauled stones and logs from the forest. Then they started the bridge.

Day by day, the bridge grew longer and stronger. People learned each other’s names. They told stories, laughed, and ate lunch side by side.

By the end of summer, the bridge was done. It curved over the river like a rainbow, beautiful and strong. Storms wouldn’t scare it one bit. Everyone cheered!

Now people could cross the river any day they liked. And they did! They skipped across the bridge to visit their new friends.

From then on, Brookfield and Riverbend were friends. They lived like one big family—helping each other on stormy days and laughing together on sunny ones.

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