Bridge

Today’s post is even shorter than normal because a friend is visiting me. Yay!

They built a bridge between them. They did it together — neither one nor the other built the structure in its entirety. As such, it was made of a combination of their styles and favored materials. His: white, plain stones, large and sturdy, yet, on the surface, uninteresting to look upon. Hers: sleek, polished marble, cut into interesting shapes and decorated with geometric patterns. Lovely, yet not nearly as solid as his contribution.

By way of this bridge, they conducted their concourse. For many years, it supported their trade. For some stretches of time, particularly after it was first built, the bridge bustled with activity, which sometimes grew so thick and heavy it could hardly bear the strain. In other periods, the traffic waned, and it would stand nearly empty, more of a monument than an object in current use.

With the passage of the years, the condition of the bridge decreased from its shiny newness to something duller and less well-regarded. They patched it, both of them, when it became damaged. Her shiny granite weathered harder and faster than his plain white stones, and showed the signs of age all the more apparently. She began to build using his stones, and he began to decorate his stones in ornate patterns, as she had once done. They endured.

They watched the bridges others had built, and the bridges they had built with others, decay and crumble to the ground. Occasionally the falling debris damaged their own structure, but with patience and determination, they rebuilt it. It accrued flaws and imperfections, and yet still the bridge endured, due to their effort and the care with which they originally constructed it. It never collapsed.