The Bridge

I come back to the bridge,
Alone,
As an adult.

When I was here before, I felt like jumping. 
I was with my family, young. My parents had remarried. 
I remember retracting from the edge, a sharp intake of breath.

I had caught a glimpse of the
Choppy, swirling waters far below.
I'd heard the call of the void.

Now, I lean into the sky-blue guard rails, 
Unafraid and grounded,
And stare into the water's depth.

Current pushes against boulder.
The shoreline quickly drops.
I admire it. 

I'm still here, I think. 
It echoes through my body, it rings in my soul. 
I made it. 

I am grateful for my own being, filling the space-time
Between that first bridge
And the final bridge, when my molecules of energy will rejoin Earth's cycles. 

What will I do with the time?
What do I want?