I’ll just have to deal with people getting us confused for the rest of my life.
“Can I call you Bernie?”
No, you absolutely may not. My mom’s name is Bernie.
Out of all of the names in the world she could’ve chosen when she had me, she calls me Bernice. Cue a lifetime of utter confusion and people giving a little chuckle when we’re both introduced.
“Oh, it’s Bernie and Bernice, hahaha!”
It was frustrating, to always be tied to her because of my name. Especially when I was growing up and trying to carve out my own identity.
But while we have similar names, my mother always encouraged me to discover who I was.
When she graduated from college, she took a leap of faith and applied to be a flight attendant, much to my grandfather’s dismay. He wanted her to pursue a sensible career in business or finance.
She had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. All she knew was that she did not want to work in a bank.
My mom left her tiny town in the Philippines and travelled all over the world, taking ten-day trips to South Africa or Italy or Bahrain. Even after she settled down and I came into the picture, she was still flying. I grew up in Hong Kong, and she’d leave to work on a flight to Taiwan and be back in the evening.
Nobody understands the pursuit of passions and wanderlust quite like she does.
So when it was my turn to find a place in this world once I finished school, she and my dad were supportive of anything I wanted to pursue. I knew from a young age that I loved to write, and as long as I had a job that would allow me to do that, I would be happy.
I could always come to my mother for a second opinion, a shoulder to cry on, or a listening ear. In moments when I doubted myself and my accomplishments, she was always my biggest cheerleader. She encouraged me to go after my dreams.
Now that I’m grown, she’s the yin to my yang and my best friend. I couldn’t have asked for a kinder, loving, and creative person to be my mom.
I’ll be moving out of my parents’ house this summer, and as that moment draws closer, every moment I spend with them is precious. Whether I’m doing the daily Wordle with her or acting as her kitchen assistant, I remind myself to take in every moment I have with my mom.
And if anyone asks if they can call me Bernie, I will adamantly continue to refuse.
Bernie is fearless and a force to be reckoned with.
Bernie is kind.
Bernie is hardworking and determined.
Bernie is a creative free spirit who possesses artistic abilities that I unfortunately did not inherit. She paints my life too, with vivid colours.
I can laugh with Bernie until my stomach hurts, and we’re normally doubled over and pointing at cheesy, punny memes on Facebook.
Bernie has probably watched half of the K-dramas available on Netflix.
Bernie can solve every single daily Worldle because she’s a word game master.
Bernie can beat anyone (and I mean anyone) at Scrabble (further proving my sentence above).
I may share her name, but I wouldn’t want her to be anyone else.
I also love the work of these writers on Medium:
,
,