The Bridge on the Last Day

 The Bridge on the Last Day

(view from the car during the Big Move)

June 23, 2026

In the last day of my forties, I am pensive. I’m noticing the small things, like a tiny indigo butterfly atop a dandelion. The lavender blooms of the milkweed. A soft downy feather left by an unknown songbird. I am opening my eyes as I travel.

The Big Move happened two weekends ago: I have a new vacation home but my heart is split between here and there, twelve hours apart. A letting go and a tethering, a string pulled across the countryside, a flight and a landing. Love allows us that. To stretch across miles.

In the journey into my next half century, I’m leaving behind some things but I’m still going to collect feathers. This bird still has hope. Is that wrong? I’m still building a bridge of invitation that love will follow me into tomorrow.

One of my devotionals for today says that emotional satisfaction comes from having, offering, and expressing love. This is what I strive to do. Not to satisfy myself. Because it is instinctual for me. Because I can’t help but love. In all ways. Because it is in my nature to do so.  Some people think they don’t deserve this love. Think it’s not for them. Think being alone is better than accepting something that scares them because it means showing themselves, opening up, admitting they have worth. But love can be scary. It makes us vulnerable. It takes trust. And honesty. Perhaps the ones that think they don’t deserve it are the ones that most need it. Need someone to believe in them.

We talked tonight in my AA meeting about expectations. And I’ve failed in this before. I’ve been a victim of my own expectations—turned my hope into expectations for myself, and for other people. It only led to my self-centeredness and loneliness.  And I wish I could take it back.  I wish I could apologize.  I wish I could tell those I hurt how I realize it was wrong to hold that up against them, to try to mold them into something they weren’t. I lost their trust. I lost trust in myself.

But I still build my bridge.  And I still collect feathers. And I still have hope. And I still love. And I still reach out. Tomorrow is a new day and I don’t know what that will bring. But I hope it will bring the emotional satisfaction that I loved in all the ways I could.  I hope it brings those who need that love. I hope it brings those small moments we notice beauty when we stop long enough on the side of the road and glance down, hand held out, waiting for the one to hold it.

by Julie S. Paschold
Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle

6.23.26