“The Bridge Between Some days”

The Bridge Between Somedays

By [Ali Rehman]

Elliot was a man built of dreams. From the moment he could remember, his life had been a collection of “somedays.” Someday, he would write the novel that would change the world. Someday, he would leave his small town and see the oceans he'd only read about in books. Someday, he would find his purpose, that elusive spark that would make his heart race with excitement.

But as the years went by, “someday” remained stubbornly out of reach, always just a little further ahead — a horizon that never moved closer. Each morning, Elliot would wake, make a cup of coffee, and sit by his window watching the world outside. He told himself that today was only a waiting room, a pause before the life he wanted truly began.

His apartment was filled with notebooks, half-finished stories, maps of faraway places pinned to the walls, and stacks of self-help books about motivation and change. Yet, no matter how much he dreamed or planned, his feet never quite left the floor.

One rainy afternoon, Elliot was staring out at the gray sky when he noticed an old man sitting across the street on a weathered wooden bench. The man was whittling a piece of driftwood with calm, practiced hands. There was something about the quiet focus of the stranger that caught Elliot’s attention.

The next day, and many days after, Elliot found himself watching the man. The stranger was always there, sitting on the same bench, shaping the same piece of wood. The longer Elliot observed, the more he realized that the man was carving a small bridge — delicate arches, tiny railings, and little planks that seemed impossibly detailed for such a small scale.

Curiosity finally got the better of Elliot, and one morning, he crossed the street and sat beside the old man.

“What are you making?” Elliot asked.

The man smiled, holding up the miniature bridge like a prized treasure. “I’m building a bridge,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Not just any bridge — a bridge between somedays.”

Elliot frowned, unsure what to make of the words.

The man looked at him with kind eyes. “You see, waiting for someday to arrive won’t get you where you want to go. Someday is a place you can’t reach by standing still. You have to build your own bridge — out of today.”

The simplicity of the statement hit Elliot like a thunderclap. He realized he had been trapped by his own inaction, waiting for the perfect moment instead of creating it.

From that day, Elliot began to visit the old man regularly. Together, they carved small wooden bridges out of driftwood, each plank symbolizing a step forward, a choice made, a fear faced. The act of building gave Elliot a new kind of focus — tangible progress to match his dreams.

With each tiny bridge they made, Elliot began to build his life, too.

He picked up his pen and started writing again, not the perfect novel, but honest stories filled with emotion and truth. He reached out to friends he had lost touch with, rebuilt connections that had frayed in the haze of his waiting. He took small trips to nearby towns instead of waiting for the grand journey across the ocean.

At first, the changes were subtle, almost imperceptible. But with every small step, the weight of waiting lifted from his shoulders.

One day, the old man handed Elliot the last plank of their latest miniature bridge. “This one is special,” he said. “Because it means you’re ready to build a real bridge — one that spans the gap between where you are and where you want to be.”

Elliot smiled, feeling a warmth he hadn’t known in years.

Months passed, and Elliot found himself standing on an actual bridge that stretched over a wide, flowing river. The sun was setting, casting the sky in shades of gold, pink, and violet. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of wildflowers and distant rain.

Beside him stood the old man, who now looked less like a stranger and more like a mentor, a guide through the fog of Elliot’s hesitation.

“Do you see it?” the man asked quietly. “This bridge isn’t just wood and nails. It’s every choice you made to stop waiting. Every moment you built today instead of hoping for someday.”

Elliot looked out over the river, feeling the breeze brush past him. “I used to think someday was out there, somewhere in the future. But now I understand — someday is here, built from the steps I take right now.”

The old man nodded. “Life is a bridge, Elliot. You don’t cross it by waiting on the shore. You cross it plank by plank, moment by moment.”

That night, as the stars blanketed the sky, Elliot returned to his apartment. The notebooks still filled his shelves, but now they were different. They were filled with stories written, plans acted upon, and dreams becoming real.

The “somedays” still whispered in his mind, but no longer as distant promises. They were invitations — invitations to build, to act, to live.

And as he drifted to sleep, Elliot felt the bridge beneath his feet — steady, strong, and built from today.

Moral:

Waiting for “someday” is a trap that keeps dreams out of reach. True change and fulfillment come when we stop waiting and start building our future with the choices and actions we take in the present. Every day is an opportunity to create the bridge from who we are to who we want to become.