A Frontliner Before It Was Cool
I roll off the bed, my feet land on the cold floor. I amble in the dark and trudge to the washroom in a trip I do half-asleep every two hours through the night, expecting the edge of a couch, as I make my way in the dark. But today, there is none. A few hours ago, I sold our daybed to its new parents, it now sits somewhere unknown, in its new home. In the many years I’ve moved my habitat around the globe, I have never, not once, gotten attached to a couch. But this time is notably different. The gaping space that pulsates in the middle of my living hall speaks to me of change, one that excites as much as it scares me. I walk to the bare floor where a four-legged cotton chair once lived, and I lay on the cold ground. I grabbed my mobile to check the time, it is 04:24. I scrolled my albums to get a glimpse of the source of my longing once more, and find myself staring at this photo.
Suddenly, everything is irrefutably, indubitably, wonderfully okay. This woman’s smile, this mother’s eyes, this friend’s laughter. Similar to the stream of loneliness that came upon me like a wash of rain I was unprepared to soak in, another flow of warmth starts in the core of my heart, plants a seed of comfort and grows into an ocean of solace. I am okay. Because of walking angels like Bee Anne, a lot of those who feel a private form of sadness they don’t talk about feel less alone. Because of mothers like Bee Anne, children who would have grown lonely and alone bloom in the nourishing soil of a family that circumvents constraints, for always, they grow as one. Because of nurses like Bee Anne, suffering people who wake up not knowing the difference of living another minute and taking the last breath find their healing, regain their strength, and revive their purpose. When do warriors like Bee Anne seek to be recognised? I tell you, not today, not tomorrow, perhaps, never at all.
Ruby Anne. I have known the woman behind this name for sixteen years, yet, seemingly longer. I have gotten equal amounts of large doses and tiny snippets of the evolution she expertly unfolds, a mystifying transformation greater than dress sizes, career choices, continental crossings, and mutating viral strains. In 2004, I watched her walk into class, her white uniform tightly clinging to her body, immaculately kept as it tries to hold in all of her merry energy. In 2010, I saw her step into the corporate floors I similarly stand in, her business clothes failing to contain the inspiring shades of spritely energy that continue to shine through her eyes. In 2018, I looked as she takes a leap of faith from the height of comfort to the mysterious waves of the unknown in chase of a dream she no longer chose to forget. And in a tumultuous happy turn of events, she restarts. Bee Anne is now back in her white uniform, tightly clinging to her body, immaculately kept as it tries to hold in all of her merry energy and the growth from that tiny human being that once lived in her belly. Yes, Bee Anne is now a mum and like she always was, a curiously unbreakable, undoubtedly impassioned, insanely optimistic nurse.
From year one, Bee Anne has always been a source of funny conversations, dependable thoughts, and surprisingly wacky shenanigans. Fast forward half a dozen exhilarating years later, I find her in my inbox. A few more years roll by, I put her in my Wordpress. A couple of days come and pass, and you see her on your newsfeed, in a nondescript moment of your life. You do not know this yet, but this woman’s story carries with it a breath of inspiration and comfort, and finds you where you need it, when you need it. Not all of us have the courage to say that, and not all of us ever will. But much as we often miss to see it, our hearts know a lot better. It has grown and recovered from the energy we get from courageous women and the confidence we gain from supportive friends. Inspiring it is to see that there are people who walk our dying earth with enough love to revive it, and heartwarming it is to recognise that there is a woman in my life who touches my heavy heart with enough sincerity to resuscitate it.
Thank you, Bee Anne. Your support of my book is already an immeasurable act of kindness on its own, and create a significant impact to those who heal from your generosity. Your naturally given encouragement of my dream bears an even stronger force that puts a tangible dent in the demons that sometimes haunt me. I know you have changed countless more lives, inspired a lot more dreams, doused a greater number of sorrows. In behalf of all the hearts you have caressed with your caring hands, I thank you, and hope that, likewise, someone holds you as selflessly as you do us, too. You were my frontliner, Bee Anne. It is time that I tell you.
Penned by Zane