“The way down is longer way than it seems.”
Mama’s words echoed in her head, soft warnings or an encouragement, she never really knew. Never did ask.
Not even after.
Because she understood.
Every time the fog rolled around.
The wonder. The urge. The pull of the opaque. The damp air on her face, her heart, her bangs.
It was, perhaps, something in their blood that called their soul to enter mist.
And yet.
Torso pressed against the bridge, her city’s pulse drowning all sound,
She did not dare repeat what Mama had done.
Abandon.
Her daughter. Her young son.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © Roger Bultot
Na'ama Yehuda 
Very good story.
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Thank you, Nancy! Bridges and high places over water have for long held a pull over some whose hold on life is tenuous. Not all manage to weave enough threads into the living, to keep them tethered above the fog. But those who do, often hold on through love. I’m glad you liked!
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Bridges over water are especially appealing for those whose hold is not the strongest, to disappear being the one final desire, the ultimate goal.
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Indeed, alas. All the more reason for us, as human beings, as communities, to work to lift up and strengthen the most vulnerable, not to expect them to lift themselves or blame them for their supposed ‘weaknesses’, which are all too often man-made.
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very tastefully done.
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Thank you, Violet! I am so glad this communicated!
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You’ve written this so well Na’ama 🌷
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Thank you, Sadje! Oblivion may can be tempting to those who know too much loss, but love and connection can help reinforce fraying hope.
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Very true my friend.
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May there be more light galore. xx
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Amen 🙏🏼
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A sad story, searching for answers and strength.
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Yes! Thank you, James. You nailed it!
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An intriguing notion of courage. I liked “the pull of the opaque”
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Thank you, Neil, I think many of us perhaps recognize that pull, mild though it may be, and the mesmerizing effect of the opaque …
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A dark yearning for what’s beyond the mist. I’m sorry mom couldn’t resist the urge.
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Yes, for some it can become a real option, or feel like one. I am glad she did not succumb and I am sorry that her mother had.
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I’m glad she did not succumb to the pull to the opaque as she remembered her children and how it felt to lose her own mom. Brave soul!
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I am glad of it, too. We cannot take it for granted that the ramifications of inter-generational trauma will not revisit. We can, perhaps, help ease them or provide sufficient cushioning of connection, to help provide more options than others had had – or felt they had – before.
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I’m glad that for her the pull is balanced out by love and obligations binding her to life.
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Yes! Exactly! And isn’t it, after all, the constant and very real balance of life? Perhaps not always quite that dramatic, but nonetheless, the constant tension of obligation and gratitude, of complication and connection.
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I think that’s exactly it. Without that, life quickly loses meaning. Which is one of the problems when people are lonely, especially in old age.
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So true! All the more reason for all of us to be aware of those around us, and reach out to those who are struggling, lonely, and are otherwise vulnerable. We really are all in this together.
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all hopes seemingly lost. the sadness felt overwhelming.
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Thank you for reading, Plaridel, and for the comment. Despair is such an overwhelming emotion – I am glad she found a way to hold on to what matters – her children.
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Na’ama Y’karah,
It sounds as thought she’s taking positive steps to break a generational curse. But we can feel the inner pull of the opaque. Lovely writing. I feel chilled and damp after reading. 😉
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks, Rochelle, yes, she is working hard to find a path to NOT repeat the devastation, and in that, she is a symbol of the many who break – or make cracks in so others can find a way to break them completely – a generational trauma and its transmitted pain. The photo did leave one chill and damp, didn’t it?! What en evocative photo! So no wonder these are the things it elicited! xx Na’ama
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