Funny how years can melt away, slipping down those walls we built. A shared smile slipped in the locks of time and toggled open each yesterday. We fell into a familiar routine, one that lived in a place before a hinged door hesitated and shut with a whispered click.
That day of goodbyes, the one roaming the corners of my mind, tugged on tethers we spent years cultivating.
I saw them wrapped around each signpost I passed, and wondered..
Can burned bridges be reconstructed?
light and dark, past and present
with simple beauty
So it was there in a small café we became engineers, designing this new trestle.
Two women gossiping like the old women we would become.
Minutes became hours as the past came alive in a room full of strangers,
each memory a steel crossbeam spanning distances time held dear.
Wide-open acceptance built a deck, well-worn cracks bolstered by connections.
And those once tenuous tethers wound together in unpliable strands connecting light and dark, past and present.
This bridge, resilient
light and dark silhouetted
against still shadows