I drove across the bridge where the accident happened

Dear Delyara, Three years ago, a truck hit my car on the Jefferson Bridge. My best friend died in the passenger seat. Afterward, I stopped driving. Then I stopped riding in cars unless necessary. Bridges were impossible. Therapy began with photographs. Then videos. Then sitting in a parked car. Starting the engine. Driving around the block. Riding over a different bridge with my therapist. Today, I drove across the Jefferson Bridge. My sister followed in another car. We had a plan: slow breathing, both hands on the wheel, no stopping in traffic, pull over afterward if needed. Halfway across, I began crying. I said my friend’s name out loud. The road did not disappear. My body did not collapse. I reached the other side. I parked and shook for fifteen minutes. Then I laughed. Not because I had stopped missing her. Because fear had kept that bridge longer than grief needed it. Today, I took the road back.