Your Love Is Water Under The Bridge


Love, in all its glory, a messy permutations — romantic love, the most common, but also joys and strains of friendship and family. With love comes hesitation, doubt, arguing, leaving a bitter taste of resentment and sadness until it’s all water under the bridge.

A series of events that can no longer be changed, no longer be reset and redone, and spark no longer there, but vanished in the remainder of fireworks that once was enough to light a city at dawn. We’ve all been there, witnessing the light slowly fade away, with all that remains is a shadow of memories titled “once upon a time.”

Any relationship is a weird novelty, with equal chances of succeeding and failing. But either way, it will all be water under the bridge. Events and words and actions that have passed, long forgiven but perhaps not forgotten, after a long day of being swept up in our own little bubble we call life.

I am no stranger to the act of holding a grudge, carrying it with me like heavy baggage, only to find it weighing me down. The unanswered questions, the painful mistakes, the questioning of loyalty, the miscommunication, all patiently waiting for responses or reason. Only to be water under the bridge when those demons are finally released where they belong — far, far away.

Because when all is said and done, what is left?

Memories of laughter, inside jokes, kisses and new experiences, all water under the bridge. Memories of doubt, arguing, sadness, all water under the bridge. Realizing the person is as seamless in your life as breathing or waking up each day, or a simple decorative piece you once wanted, but no longer care for.

The reality hits, and you’re back on your adventure of many, consecutive, trial-and-error days that come to the truth of knowing yourself well enough to offer that kind of clarity to someone else.

One break at a time, you watch it fall, and it will all be water under the bridge — and that’s okay. 

Because with heartache comes strength, wisdom and courage, blooming in the dark like a Night Phlox flower, transforming in the absence of light, to a fully grown, beautiful, gift of mother nature.