There is this little red bridge about fifty steps from my front door. It crosses over a small stream that runs from the top of the property all the way down into the larger body of water called Cub Creek that boarders the east side of my lot. As strange as it may sound, I have found myself thinking about that little red bridge a lot lately.
It’s small, short and in somewhat of a precarious location. But nonetheless, one of the previous homeowners deemed it necessary, and put it there.
Staring out at that bridge, I come to realize that that pretty much sums up my life at this point. I am on a bridge in almost every sense of the word. I left my prior career in the non profit world, yet am not quite finished with my graduate education and have yet to begin my new career in mental health.
I left the city of my childhood and although I love where I am now, it has yet to become fully home. I lost one horse with whom I had built an incredible relationship of understanding and communication and am working on building that again from scratch with someone new.
A bridge. Neither here nor there. It’s a strange place to be for sure. And one that is filled with strict contradictions that come and go daily. There are moments where I feel excited and filled with anticipation for my upcoming career…and there are days racked with self-doubt and perceived regret.
Some days I feel connected to this small town and it’s inhabitants, running into a casual acquaintance in a store or having my neighbor come over for the day to help with yard work. Then other days I feel marginalized, unwelcome and lost.
In my new equine endeavours, I can have a day where she and I combine and work and relate and it’s wonderful and reassuring and uplifting. But there are so many days that I feel left behind, trying to run a race that began long before I showed up.
A bridge. Caught between the already and the not yet. However, life still continues to go on around me, and dares to be so bold as to demand that I continue along with it. It many not seem like much to endure, but for us creatures of habit, ambiguity can be an immensely difficult thing to experience.
I think the most fitting words that I have come across lately are simply these, that we endure by enduring. We persevere by continuing on. Sometimes it is just that it is what it is and I try to hold on to those moments of progress or feelings of readiness and trust that the simple affirmation I receive in those moments will only grow with time. And with time, comfort and that one day I can step off onto the other side of this bridge, that at the moment seems to be a million miles long.