Journey Over The Bridge (1 min read)

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Losing life is what we consider the biggest tragedy. And losing oneself, the worst grief. But do you realize what happens when you’re standing over a bridge connecting these two?

Every time I passed by her ward, I found her standing by the window and continually glancing at her watch. Her ward was right next to my mother’s. Upon asking, my mother’s nurse revealed that she had Alzheimer’s.

‘Is she waiting for someone?’ I asked, frowning.

‘You see, Sir, she’s unmarried and 65…her parents aren’t alive…she does take a name sometimes but we’ve no idea who that person is.’ She replied indifferently.

Deeply hurt, I decided to pay her a visit.

‘Hi, Aunty.’ I uttered dubiously.

She turned back slowly and smiled. ‘What took you so long?’

I realized she mistook me for the one she had been waiting for. But that glint in her eyes told me the least I could do as a fellow human was make her journey over the bridge a little easy. I smiled. ‘I was looking for you.’


Written by Chirasree Bose forΒ FFfAW Challenge – 166th

Word count – 175

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