Bridges

I KNOW I need to write more. I KNOW I'm called to write. But the thought of editing, revising and rewriting drains me. Why can't we just write perfectly on our first attempt? Because then everyone would be a writer, Pae would say. Anyways here's a little something I wrote and didn't edit, because well, you know why...

There's a bridge in North East Java, the Suramadu bridge, aka Surabaya-Madura bridge. Interestingly enough the students we taught in Malang were mostly Madurese immigrants, and my first boyfriend's name was Madu. What is my name?, suramadu, close enough. Madura is a small island just north of Surabaya, where we landed upon arrival in Java. Bridges fascinate me, along with many others I'm sure, and while we didn't take a trip to the bridge, I'm sure there's room in the future for one. Madu was my first kiss, but when he told me in a Christmas card that he loved me, I shut down, started ignoring him and had my Mom call to do the breaking up. I wasn't courageous enough to tell him with my mouth and tongue and breath that I was afraid of love from him because that meant I would have to return it. Instead I found my inner coward and summoned her ways. I was 16, some people are married at that age, some people in Madura have families and completely different lives than me at 16. While I was breaking Madu's heart at 16 in San Jose, CA, I'm sure a 16 year old "woman" in Madura was birthing her first child while her husband was out with his second wife or "lover". Perhaps that's why I was afraid of love at such a tender age. I only understood jealous, selfish and abusive love and didn't know what pure love looked or felt like. I wasn't ready to accept Madu's love, whether it was pure or not, just like the Madurese girl didn't understand pure love and perhaps today, at 26, she still doesn't. I do. I should help her find it as well. Perhaps she has 5 children today, from different "men". Maybe her first husband was poisoned by a jealous lover. Maybe she uses love potions to get men to stay with her for the night so she can feel the warmth of a man's arms and wish he would stay with her forever. Perhaps right at this very moment, she's praying to Allah, or a variety of Hindu gods or an animistic spirit for love, to know it and to be known by it. I'd like to help her. I hope my inner coward doesn't take over and like a giant wave knock me off this bridge I'm on. If bridges can connect land masses and people can they also connect the hearts of those people?