The Bridge

I stayed with him the whole night, not sleeping a wink, just watching over him to make sure he wasn’t going to freak out. It was that night I discovered a lot of thing about life. I thought it was just an old saying, but it’s the truth -- it does become the darkest before the dawn, a pitch blackness; even the moon seemed that it had drifted away from the earth, becoming a large star in the night sky, unable to give the comfort of light to the world of shadows. James twisted and turned, screaming out in from a nightmare world only he could see. When he was quiet, the world was quiet. No owl or coyote kept me company on that night’s vigil. No possum peered at me from the underbrush beside the river. Is it always that quiet in the depths of night? As I stared into the darkness, my eyes changed, giving me a type of night vision, not perfect, but enough that I could see the mist rise up from the water beneath my dangling legs. For a moment I was a Dark Age traveler resting for the night, watching water sprites dance on top of the water. Their dance kept me awake, assuring me that James would be alright. His demons would leave him soon. I glanced downriver and saw a dense wall of fog rolling toward me and wondered whether the sprites had summoned it or if the fog had been sent by some higher power to squash their magical diversion. My mind kept playing back the conversation James and I had had before he’d come down enough to go to sleep. At last, a sliver of red pushed against the blackness. A bright red ball rose slowly, casting brilliant rose shadows on the fog. I was both exhausted and energized. I looked at my best friend, sleeping peacefully at last and knew for the first time what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I wanted to become a psychiatrist so I could help people get through those moments of crisis and find peace.