I’m thankful for bridges—that they exist so people can walk over them and get to the other side and reach each other. I’m glad that they exist because if not it would just be a bunch of people peering over at each other. Yelling words that could so easily be blown away by the wind. Maybe there would be people using telescopes and binoculars to read each others lips. I don’t know.
I’m glad that there are bridges so folks can walk over to the other side and touch each other. Hug other. Love each other.
With bridges the gap simply becomes a crack in the path.
If we did not have bridges maybe there would still be people who think the brown in my skin exists because I’m dirty. Maybe the gap would make them think they were never supposed to meet me in the first place for that reason. With bridges, I know that if I hear someone yelling for help or screaming in pain, I can run to help them. Otherwise, maybe I would assume that the obstacle is evidence enough that they are not my problem.
If there were not bridges we would just have to assume—be content with the stories we tell ourselves to make ourselves satisfied with not fully knowing. Perhaps we do that already.