The Bridge of No Return

My co-passenger and I looked at each other suspiciously when the Boeing jet dropped vertically several feet as we hit an air pocket. It was my first trip to the French city of Marseille, albeit an official one. Not exactly a travel hound when it came as a passion, my tryst with sightseeing is mostly limited to travel brochures and works of fiction. Unlike millions of my fellow species I have not been blessed with wanderlust. Of course, there have been occasions when the stirrings of distant snow clad mountains have beckoned me, without much success. 

But somehow, Marseille was different... I had heard so much of this exquisite city - it's history, architecture and culture. More importantly, this was the land from where my ex-sweetheart came from. That was enough for me to fall in love with the place without ever seeing it before. Strange what love can do to you.

As we flew over the deep blue Mediterranean Ocean, I reflected sadly at the vagaries of life and pain of lost love. On touchdown, I was shaken out of my thoughts by a fresh autumn coolness and a wide expanse of green melting into the sea which simply took the breath away. In the evening, with formalities of work over and after a combination of  a wonderful meal of typical French cuisine and an uncharacteristically warm French hospitality made us feel good all over, my friend and I went for a lazy walk by the country side.

It was around eleven in the night and as we trudged silently in the dark, each to our own thoughts, we came to a small bridge by the road side lit brilliantly by millions of stars above us. Leaning on that distant bridge in middle of nowhere amidst the dark trees, with moonlight filtering through its leaves and a comforting silence, I was swept with a sense of timelessness. That nothing had changed in this place for centuries. 

And in that quiet, time stood still and my soul again yearned for that someone who had made me feel so good at some point of my life. Our relationship had been unusual and tempestuous to say the least with long spans of time separating us for most of the five years that I had known her. Somehow, every meeting was special because the gaps didn't seem to exist. Looking wistfully at me out of those brown eyes, she had once told me that we met only to part, and finally the day came when we parted never to meet again as fate swept us in lone directions. Though over time I forced myself to believe I have no regrets, there has always been this occasional tug at the heart as I know I will never experience those depths again.

Standing on that silent night, I remembered something I had read somewhere "The old dreams were good dreams, It didn't work out, but I'm glad I had them anyway". It struck me that I had forgotten something along the way. To really relish the color of life is truly learning to treasure the moments we have lived right and look forward to another tomorrow.  In more ways than one, I had seen light on that starry night on a lonely bridge in middle of nowhere.