Some say ideas float around above us waiting to land on those who are willing to accept them.
I have a lot of ideas. Ideas for music, ideas for poetry, but these days, the space for creativity is flooded by fear. Fear of the virus, fear for our safety.
Though times are not ideal, I do wish I could remain home with my family, to finally have the time to spend and leave work on the back burner. But not me. When I graduated from nursing school in 2016, I didn't expect to be pulled into the throws of a pandemic four years later, soothing the wounded hearts of my patients, alleviating anxiety for their family members, and yet, a constant dread filling the void behind my face—behind my mask where my eyes are smiling and my lips are curled down.
I want a new idea to think about. But I can't spend too long because room 305 is ringing again.
I'd like to count each white-polished toe through crystal clear waters and taste fresh coconut on my tongue. Stale water at the nurses' station doesn't cut it anymore.
I'll take five minutes of meditation, and I've learned to make the most of it.
Let me crouch down in the med room, a space only for me, for now...
People talk about the bright blue skies and the white sandy beaches, but you can find me at the swim-up bar asking the staff about themselves. We forget stories are another form of a cheap vacation.
"Come on, let's have a drink!" And perhaps another one right after.
The pool is fun but like a cat, I would bask in the sunlight that feels a little more magical than the sunlight I know at home. Is this what the love of the Universe feels like? Hot but not scorching, warming up the blood in my veins. But I know I can't go too long without thinking about my patients at home and how, for some of them—before I had a chance to say goodbye—their veins ran cold.
There's a wedding on the beach. Though I'm not an invited guest, I'll clap along with the father of the bride as I'm seated under a canopy of straw in the shady distance.
Maybe I'll think about my own beach wedding, but for that I need a ring first. A girl can dream.
The palm trees are swaying in the winds like a metronome. There's suddenly music that isn't made by instruments we know of. It hits me, an unconventional milestone: my peace of mind. A pinnacle I haven't yet reached.
If I can look my partner in his eyes and see how his chestnut coloured irises turn into honey under the sunlight, and count the shades of brown on his tanned skin, it'll be worth it.
I'll flood my head with these ideas for now and hold them with all my might.
The med room doesn't feel so cramped anymore.
