The Bridge, the Sky, and the Sea

The Moon was gleaming seamlessly as Aiko made her way to the center of the Brooklyn Bridge. The sky was wide and awake, but Aiko found herself staring at the water below her. Her dark brown hair flowed with the wind as she leaned against the chestnut banister. Somehow, Aiko was always drawn to the same spot whenever she was in New York. She always found herself leaning against the same banister of the same bridge. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a soft voice said. Aiko turned her head upward to see a figure of mist emerging from the Moon. She rubbed her eyes and blinked furiously, but the sight in front of her was still just there. 

As Aiko looked closer, she saw a woman coming out of the mist, out of the Moon’s strong halo. Her long, beautiful hair was whipping to and fro with the pull of the tides as her calm watchful eyes gazed into Aiko’s. The water below her that was once polluted now shown with the light, which became brighter with her absence, as if she was causing the glowing. 

As the water below her cleared to a breathtaking lapis blue, more and more figures emerged from the Moon’s halo. Some danced, some walked, some stood ridged and still. Somehow, they all managed to become one with the stars and the waves, moving and glistening with the light of the Moon. 

“Who are you?” asked the confused, yet stunned Aiko.

“I am Hala,” the woman said calmly, like the eye of a hurricane, watchfully waiting. 

“But what are you?” asked Aiko, still confused.

Hala gave a crooked smile, the edges of her mouth widening. “I’m the Moon’s halo. I am the controller of the tides and the bridge between the sky and the sea.”

“The bridge,” Aiko repeated, running her hands across the banister of the bridge her feet were planted on. 

“Oh yes, the bridge. The same one you’re standing on now.”

Aiko scrunched up her eyebrows. “What do you mean, the same one?”

“I am this bridge. We are both the bridge between the sky and the sea, the waves and the stars, two parts of the world balancing on a single thread.”

“But...how can I see you?” Aiko asked, curiosity shining through her deep blue eyes. 

“Because,” said Hala, her own pristine silver eyes shining like the glistening stars, “you are a part of this bridge, too.”

Aiko gasped. She remembered that line. She remembered her grandmother’s faint smile as she sat down on the worn couch with little Aiko on her lap. She remembered the faint whispers of the wind from the window above them and how the Moon formed a curved slit in the sky, like a sword cutting away at the stars. She remembered the great Brooklyn Bridge in the window, too - holding together the two worlds of the sea and the sky. She remembered her grandmother’s calm voice as she said that very line. 

Remember, little one. You are a part of this bridge you see before you. Your blood is in this bridge. 

“Grandma, what do you mean?” a young Aiko asked, her own bright smile diminishing like the stars in the sky. 

“You’ll understand when you are older. But remember, Aiko, your blood is in this bridge. You are forever bound here to this city. “

“I am forever bound here,” Aiko repeated, remembering the halo around the Moon that very night. 

“So you remember,” Hala said, her voice faltering ever so slightly.

“I do,” Aiko whispered, once again remembering her grandmother’s smile and how it was like a mirror reflection of Hala’s own gaze. “I do.”

Aiko stared into Hala’s silver eyes, remembering them. She remembered them in the light of the Moon in that window in her old house back when she was a young child sitting on her grandmother's lap. She remembered them when she went to the ocean and saw the sunlight dance across the waves. She remembered them in the stars when she stared at them, wondering about all sorts of things. 

Aiko missed her grandmother profusely. She remembered her telling her stories by the light of the Moon each night, each as cryptic as the last. She remembered the happiness they brought her each night before bed, the happiness young Aiko rarely felt. 

She remembered when her grandmother stopped telling her stories and started to sleep at night instead. It hurt Aiko, but she knew it was for the best. 

But then her grandmother stopped entirely when she died, and how Aiko cried that storyless night, the cryptic messages never to be resolved, the stories to forever stop being told. 

But that wasn’t all that she remembered them from that night. She remembered her grandmother’s silver eyes, pristine in nature, glowing like the moon, the stars, the sea. Aiko didn’t remember much from back then, but she remembered looking into her grandmother’s watchful eyes, like the eye of a hurricane. 

Just like Hala’s. 

But something inside of Aiko knew, she just knew, that she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t tell Hala that she knew who she was. It felt wrong. 

Plus, without Hala knowing that she remembered, Aiko could find out what her grandmother meant, all those years ago. What Hala meant. What the bridge meant to Aiko.

“What does it mean?” She asked, staring into those pristine silver eyes she knew so well. “How is my blood in this bridge?”

Hala smiled, the type of smile that could rock the oceans and turn the rides around. “Because your ancestors are in this bridge.”

Aiko frowned. “And what does that mean?”

Hala mirrored Aiko’s frown with another bright smile. “You are the descendant of one of the men who built this bridge.”

“And how does that make my blood run through the-”

“He died,” Hala cut Aiko off, her smile that echoed through the bright graveyard of stars behind her turning into a frown. “He was buried in the bridge. They kept building on without him. His blood - your blood - is flowing through this very bridge. His legacy lives on in two places. In you,” she said, pointing to Aiko. “and in the metal beneath your feet.”

Aiko gasped in realization. She remembered that frown as well. She remembered it when her grandmother turned towards the bridge that very night, staring into it with emptiness in her soul, her silver eyes turning a soft grey. 

“You knew him, “ she stated, watching Hala’s eyes turn that same grey color, like they had so long ago. 

“I did,” Hala responded. “He lives on in me. I am the bridge.”

Suddenly, somehow, it felt right to address Hala as who she was now. Now that she had explained, now that she had come full circle. She was the bridge, but she was Aiko’s grandmother, too. She was the bridge, but she was still human. 

Aiko did the math, and then she spoke, her words strong, ringing throughout the sea and the sky. “But he’s your grandfather, too. Just like you’re my grandmother.”

Finally, the burden was down. Aiko gave a heavy sigh, as she let the words escape from her mouth. She could finally feel complete, seeing her grandmother there again in front of her, both of them knowing full well and addressing who they were. 

“You’re right, little one,” Hala said, her smile returning. 

And, with that, Aiko hugged her, remembering her warm embrace from so long ago. But Hala disappeared just as soon as she had, leaving Aiko only the bridge, the sky, and the sea to continue the legacy of the person she loved so much.