Family Is My Bridge

Bridges

In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future. - Alex Haley

Bridge is a structure built to span a physical obstacle such as a body of water or valley.

Connotatively, it could be thought of as inherently symbolic. A passage to reality. The transition from what is worldly to a sense of purity and inner peace.

Bridge is connection. 

It is union in a family.

Clockwise from top right: Arno River Bridge. Florence: 2023 | Queenstown, New Zealand: 2022 | Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, Big Island: 2022 

Yet, like branches on a tree, we all grow in different directions, perhaps building too many walls and not enough bridges. 

We definitely are not perfect nor need to be, but we need to remind ourselves that our roots remain as one.

We may not have it all together, but together we have it all.

Understanding is the bridge between two minds. Love is the bridge between two souls.

Lexi, turning three years old, gives First Granddaughter a loving smooch. Honolulu: 2023

Penobscot Narrows Bridge. Maine: 2017

Bridge is family that carries us over,

 as the river of time

flows past.

In All Things Give Thanks

The table is set.

The people who are the most thankful are those who didn't have to cook. Amul India Restaurant. Dublin, Ohio

What did the gulab jamun say to the fork? You want a piece of me?

Grateful hearts, warm wishes 

A reminder:

Don't forget to set your scales back

 ten pounds this week.

Remembering, in the Year of Covid, when Thanksgiving was spent at home. Columbus, OH, 2020

Most of all, don't let the turkeys get you down.

Thanksgiving blessings to all!

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Bridges

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down. 

- Lyrics from song by American folk duo Simon and Garfunkel

Friendship.

Empathy.

Love that can build bridges where there are none.

These come to mind every time I listen to the haunting lyrics of Bridge Over Troubled Water.

It makes me remember those times when I had felt small, but was assured that my darkest night was the bridge to the brightest tomorrow.

That there was always a bridge for finding lights in life.

That there had been an opening into the quiet beneath the chaos where I found calmness I did not think possible.

That I just needed to continue in the faith.

Maintain my peace in the midst of my storm.

 

Red Hashi Bridge

Bridges

A bridge is a meeting place... a possibility, a metaphor. - Jeanette Winterson

Pen pals are people who regularly write to each other, particularly via postal mail. They are usually strangers whose relationship is based primarily, or even solely, on their exchange of letters.

On my third year in high school, I had a pen pal, a Japanese girl whose name I can't recall, unfortunately. She was on her last year of Tyugakko (junior high). We were both fourteen years old.

Of course, I was thrilled.

After the first exchange of letters, we were soon also sending small gifts - dried, pressed petals of our respective national flowers, the sampaguita and cherry blossom. After that, we traded fans: a woven abaniko from me for a Japanese paper fan.

Internet pic only

But what I treasured most from among the trinket gifts my friend had sent was a postcard.

It was simple.

Minimalist. 

It was that of a hill garden dominated by a red hashi bridge arched over a shallow stream.

I had imagined being in her world, the colorful crossover connecting the bank of my river to her river across time and space.

I thought, I'd like to be there. Pass over the stream and pluck pink sakura blossoms off the tree.

Some day. 

 

Wooden Bridge By The Canal

Bridges 

Bridges are happy, because they do not judge those who come to them. – Mehmet Murat ildan

Have you ever crossed a wooden plank bridge that you fear will collapse, but you need to cross? 

I have. Many times before.

On Sunday afternoons, we went on MYF visitations of church members who lived on the other side of the canal on Arevalo Street. To do this, we had to cross toward Domingo Santiago along a rickety overpass.

The structure didn't look very strong nor well-made.

It seemed like something that would likely break or collapse any minute.

Did that intimidate me?

No way.

I'd always thought traversing the dilapidated construction was fun.

It was like stepping gingerly across a balance beam. Or walking across a fallen log with hands held out to either side. I'd try to keep my body perfectly in line, fearing the slightest loss of balance could send me tumbling.  

The missing random planks were a challenge. I'd wobble as I went, jumping to safety from beam to beam. 

I had no idea at the time that such action could have been either intimate, even poetic, or tragic.

I just knew that crossing between the gaps was play. 

Because they were there.