Driving through Mexico, I’ve crossed a lot of small bridges. Each bridge or “puente” has a sign with its name. Puente Santa Maria. Puente de Oro. Puente Lo Que Sea.
And then there was: “Puente Sin Nombre.” Bridge Without a Name.
First of all, hilarious. Why? What was it about this bridge that made them decide, no, we’re not even going to try. But also…calling it “no name” is a name.
Aaanyway. It also hit something deeper.
My whole life right now feels like a bridge without a name. I am on the road, moving my entire life from LA to Mexico. Building a bridge between two distinct chapters. A bridge between who I was and who I will be. A bridge between the past and the future. A bridge between what I know and what I don’t.
We are ALL, ALWAYS in transition. We’re ALL, ALWAYS between where we’ve been and where we’re going.
We are all always moving into the unknown.
This particular transition has tested me down to the rawest nub of bone and taken everything I have.
But on faith, I am crossing this bridge with no name. I am driving 5 hours a day at 130 kilometers per hour toward whatever is on the other side. And trusting the destination.
We don’t know what’s on the other side of the bridges we cross, the thresholds we pass through, and the decisions we make. We never really know what the bridge should be called until we fully understand where it brought us.
Puente sin nombre,
bridge with no name,
I am trusting you with all my weight,
to carry me somewhere
I’ve never been.
Puente sin nombre,
bridge with no name,
I got on on one side
but can’t be sure what’s around the bend.
I know what’s already been under my feet.
I know the person I’ve been.
I thought I was taking her with me,
but every mile strips another layer.
Underneath,
is someone I’ve never met.
Puente sin nombre,
bridge with no name,
take me.
Take me where I cannot know,
I cannot plan,
I cannot predict.
You’re the only one that knows the truth.
I won’t know until I get where I’m going.
I won’t know until I look back
and you’re nowhere to be seen.