She is young, very young.

A brilliant mind. A lively brainiac.

She is a Neonatal Transport resident, fearless, bewitching.

Sometimes sulky, sometimes cheerful.

The swagger of youth in her gaze.

The deep black eyes of the amazing Italian women.

Inside the speeding ambulance, the suffering newborn.

She scans the monitors, the mechanical ventilator, the devices.

Her thin fingers move swiftly, they assemble and dismantle, touch and check.

Then she turns to me, seeking comfort and safety.

She is a fellow and believes her hands are still in mine.

She is young, though not so young anymore.

She releases her grip.

It’s time to go, time to leave.

The future is all hers while the wind is propitious and calm is the sea.

Seize the moment, let her fly, grab the opportunity.

She who had decided to help mothers, she who would never become one herself.

The sea was calm, the breeze was a caress, a long and promising path ahead of her.

And now, there is only a small wedge left for me.

She was young, too young.

She was so beautiful.

She is Anna.

I continue to transport, and survive, trying to forget.

We will meet again in another better life.

This poem is dedicated to the memory of a very young neonatal fellow who had a special interest in neonatal transport. She was the picture of the joy of life, of youth. She was a brilliant, capable, passionate physician. A terrible and violent disease tore her from life within a very short time. For all those who loved and still love Anna Rita it was a searing pain and these few words will never be able to compensate for the emptiness that Anna has left in us all. They are just a light caress. In the difficult work that as doctors we try to do every day, we are all well aware that we need comfort, support, and protection. We are all convinced that Anna will be our dearest guardian angel.