Is cross

With herself. With how almost every aspect of life seems to have led to some bridge to be crossed. And with how she seems to have settled down on this end of the bridge. Built a house there, furnished it, has regular guests over. Even the postal department knows she lives at this end of the bridge. How she occasionally looks to that end of the bridge, imagines what life would be like if she crossed over, and goes back with a wistful sigh to what she has allowed life to become. How reality kicking in once is a while only causes discomfort with the status quo but no progress whatsoever. How the fact that she doesnt have to cross it all alone brings warmth but not courage.

Its not like she hasn't crossed bridges before. But crossing bridges you find yourself put upon is very different from finding yourself a bridge to cross.

P.S. At much stronger version of this post was in my head all evening. Where it went i dont know. Also, the following narrative from my one and only rafting trip was supposed to be woven seamlessly into the post. Why it is here looking like an unrelated sock that comes along when you pull out your woolen sweater from the cupboard i dont know.

It was a 3 day rafting trip. I dont usually get scared of climbing or falling or water or outdoorsy things in general, but this trip had a couple of genuinely scary moments.
One was when we were to cross a grade 3 rapid called the wall. A high rocky mountain on one side, with the narrow river crashing against the rocks. 90 percent change you raft would flip and in you would go into the Ganges, we were told. And it did. And in we went. Though there were life jackets, i spent a few scary minutes going up and back deep down into the water wondering if any of the rescue kayaks would reach me.
Another was at a rapid called Three Blind Mice. Mice 1 and 3 were harmless, but if you got pulled into the mice 2, you'd had it. There were rocks and we could see whirlpools all over the place. Our instructor had told us to simply follow his instructions. Paddle forward he yelled as we came out of mice 1. For some reason the people ahead of me thought he'd asked us to stop paddling and immediately stopped. What were they doing! OMG! I was sure we were crashing into mice 2. Fortunately he saw and yelled louder and they went back to paddling furiously and we escaped to mice 3. Which wasnt all that mild as we'd been led to believe. The raft went almost vertical a couple of times and i was sure the guys sitting ahead of me were going to fall on me.
We were almost at the end of our trip. There was a rock jutting out into the river at a very convenient height and location, and we were to jump off it. I dont get scared of such things, right? I saw people climbing up the rock, looking down, getting scared and the organizers having to push them off. And sniggered. When it was my turn, i went up, looked down and was ready to climb down with my tail between my legs, my reputation be damned, my forever dream of diving into water be damned, the fact that my friend had already jumped before me be damned. The organizer of course refused to let me go back and pushed me off. (I wish i could say it felt awesome, but it ended too quickly for me to actually register much).

That push, i think, is what i'm waiting for.