At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.
The tracks went under an old stone bridge outside unspoken boundaries of childhood. I remember walking that set of rails with someone who told me there'd be another bridge up ahead. Sure enough, there was, but this one had no railings, no walkway alongside or any bars to grip. The tracks extended themselves over a drop where trees couldn't reach that high. I was just a kid and the gaps between each wooden railway tie seemed much too big. I made the attempt to cross on a dare, doing so on my hands and knees, but didn't manage more than a crawl past the edge of ground for fear of falling through.
Just the other day, wanting to push at boundaries, I approached the same bridge. The gaps were smaller but the danger - the bend, the drop, the earth down below - it was still there. This time, I made it across the entire way with someone beside me. Blatant determination to cross that bridge, symbolic of all this past tracked through me - and the boy's hold on me as tight as his hand.
For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin -- real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. - Fr. Alfred D’Souza