A boy a long time ago leaned against the railing of a bridge and watched the current of the river below. A log, a bit of driftwood, a chip floated past. Again the surface of the river was smooth. But always, as it had for a hundred perhaps a thousand, perhaps even a million years, the water slipped by under the bridge. Watching the river that day, the boy made a discovery. Quite suddenly, and yet quietly, he knew that everything in his life would some day pass under the bridge and be gone like the water. The boy came to like those words: "water under the bridge." All his life thereafter the idea served him well and carried him through. Although there were days and ways that were dark and not easy, always when he had made a mistake that couldn't be helped, or lost something that could never come again, the boy, now a man, said, "It's water under the bridge." "It's water under the bridge." I'll try again.
Source: Albert W. Daw Collection
Contributed by: Zaady