What becomes of these locks once an unbreakable love is shattered? Does the jilted lover return, key in hand or combination recalled, to remove the token in a symbolic act of catharsis or maybe retribution? Do they let the talisman stay as a gesture of goodwill and remembrance of better days gone by? Or perhaps they leave it undisturbed as a misguided dream that when everything has gone awry, love remains (even if it’s just a cold hunk of metal resting idly in hostile silence), hoping against hope that things will get better?
My hope is that most of these bonds still exist. Happy, fulfilled, and flourishing. The problem is you can’t tell which is which. Which locks represent thriving devotion and which speak for atrophy and neglect?
Is it harmless devotion?
I daresay that the engineers who make fences like these or bridges don’t factor thousands of added locks into their calculations for structural integrity. Can these locks cause damage over time by too much unaccounted-for stress and weight? Possibly. In 2015 CNN reported that there were around 700,000 padlocks on the Pont des Arts bridge in Paris. How heavy are 700,000 padlocks? About as heavy as 20 elephants.
Meanwhile, the Chattahoochee River rushes by, indifferent to our attachments and our heartbreaks. It continues on its path—and always will—in heedless passivity. It just is.
Was I simply trolling under this bridge?
Have you ever left one of these somewhere? I haven’t and don’t expect I ever will. But I don’t see the trend ending anytime soon. Are there better ways to show our commitment to each other? Definitely. But I’ll bet that in the majority of tourist destinations, large and small, around the world there is a vendor within walking distance selling affordable padlocks to starry-eyed lovers.
