constellations

f i x i n g b r i d g e s

 f i x i n g   b r i d g e s

The sun is already hanging low in the sky when Hanna and I pass by Brown Park. It isa place that triggers nostalgia so we can't help, but visit it despite the hour. There are still a number of persons scattered around the park, some are playing various sports, some are riding bicycles, some are playing with their long boards, and most are just having conversations. Much has changed since I last went here about a year ago. The green grass below are freshly cut and emit a pleasant aroma around the surroundings; the benches has multiplied in number and now and sport a new paint that complement with the greenness of the park. The trees seem bushier; the pavements greyer. Things around the park are both older and newer. The bridge at the southern part of the park, however, seem to have frozen in time. Or so I thought.

We walk to the bridge at the west side of the park, commonly known as Droplet. It is just eight meters long and three meters wide, but its walls are built with marble, that add a touch of elegance to its façade. I lean on one of the walls and look at the scene before me while Hanna sits down and leans her back on the bridge wall. I let my fingers trace the intricate designs on the top of the bridge wall as I watch the golden circle start to hide behind the silhouette of buildings and trees, casting a glowing orange light that danced on the river underneath. The river is so clear that it is hard to believe it's actually deep; ripples triggered by some black fishes complement the tranquil flow of the water below. From the periphery of my vision, I see a flock of birds flying south which passes by the huge Ferris wheel in the town square downtown. I look around the park and see some people starting to go home. There are still children riding bicycles, but even their number has lessened compared to earlier.

Just then, a few soft melodies coming from a small band of a harmonica, a flute, and a guitar nearby reach my ears. The music just makes the scene and this moment more perfect. I returned to looking at the placid waters below and start to close my eyes and feel the music when I hear Hanna's dry coughing beside me. I sigh and sit down beside her. I watch her close her eyes, waving me off, saying she's fine.

I observe the bridge. That's when I realize that the bridge, like the other things around the park, has changed. I start to notice the scratches and crevices that are on the bridge wall. The walls which were once purely white marble have now turned somewhat rusty: a combination of greys, yellows, green, black, and brown; worn out by years of rain and being trudged and kicked on by slippers' and shoes' soles. Some graffiti and traces of blood also appeared on some parts of the yellowing marble wall. Proofs of Droplet's years of existence in the face of the earth; proof that beauty depreciates--that nothing lasts forever.

I get out of the world of beauty, bridges, and cracks when I hear Hanna coughing again. I put my left palm behind her back and start patting it, smoothly and slowly. As I do that, I see the sun's warm rays light her pale skin. It is only then that I notice the purple bruises adorning her pale, translucent skin. I see it on her jaw, on her neck, on her arms, on her legs, on her thighs, and God know what other bruises lay underneath her clothes. How did I not notice this earlier when we were walking? I look at her face and notice the dark circles under her eyes; her cheek bones which have now become more obvious; and her thin lips have become dried and chapped. I stare into the cerulean pools on her eyes--the once beautiful and full of life eyes have now become void and lifeless, looking far away. Her ebony black hair which is tied into a bun is so messy and is now duller. This is not her. This is Hanna anymore. Not the lively, full of life Hanna a year ago and many years before that.

The street lamps on and around the bridge start to emit light, adding luminescence to the darkening surroundings. I look at the bridge and then, to the girl beside me. I look once more and start to realize how the two are so similar, in every sad way.