Bridge

(This is a prompt from in my writers' group. Spoiler alert: it's not about building nor burning)

I learned to bridge early.
Not by crossing.
By staying close enough to keep things connected.

Close felt responsible.
Close felt kind.
Close felt like paying attention.

I bridged conversations by listening carefully.
By waiting.
By letting people finish what they were saying, even when I already knew how it would end.

I bridged time with words like soon and after this.
Not to mislead
Just to buy a little room. So I had a place to stand.

Bridging is how I stayed available.
Intact.
Still there.

I could be present without forcing an outcome.
I could hold space without rearranging it.

I bridged disagreements by softening language.
I learned which words traveled safely.

From a distance, it looked like balance.
Up close, it felt like care.

The bridge didn’t ask me to choose a side.
It asked me to stay.

And I did.
Often longer than I meant to.

Long enough to forget I was standing in the middle.