Every time the bridge goes up on Ocean Ave, I swear it feels like the universe pressing a soft hand to my chest.
A pause.
A breath.
A reminder.
I watch people peel out of the line, whipping U-turns because they’re too busy, too frantic, too convinced they have to be somewhere right now. And every time, I just think—thank God I don’t live like that anymore. Thank God I don’t have to.
I know some people feel trapped in that rush, like it’s choosing them instead of the other way around.
But when the bridge lifts for me, it’s like life saying, Stop. Breathe. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
It’s this tiny, magical moment of surrender.
Like the world is holding its breath with me.
And honestly?
I’ve fallen in love with that feeling.
I hope more people learn to look at a raised bridge and feel what I feel—
not frustration, not urgency—
but a soft settling into themselves.
A moment of peace disguised as an inconvenience.
