Hi! My name is Ambrose Beaulieu. A mixed-race girl from the rainiest city in Canada! 

At the time of writing this, I am 24 years old. I have always struggled when it comes to writing about myself, but I hope what you find here will help give you a bit of an insight as to why this project means so much to me.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always dreamed of going to space. I was fascinated by the countless stars and all the possibilities they represented, but the moon has always held my heart captive. I was about 6 or 7 when my grandmother first told me the story of Chang’e, the Chinese goddess of the moon. She told me that Chang’e listened well, kept all secrets, and watched over all the people of the world as they slept. From that night onward, I have always talked to the moon, firmly believing in my heart that Chang’e would hear my words and keep my wishes and dreams for the future safe. 

Soon after my grandmother told me about Chang’e, hardship befell my family, and I had to grow up in a hurry. My biggest hope was to be an astronaut, so I tried to see these hardships as lessons that might help me become an astronaut who could handle anything! Whenever I doubted myself, felt hopeless, or alone, the glow of the moon was always there to comfort me through it all. No matter what, I had promised myself that I wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of me achieving my dreams.

By 15, I was doing well in school, had excellent conceptualization & strategizing ability, fast reflexes, excellent eyesight, & was a sharpshooter and active member of the 72nd Seaforth Highlanders Army Cadets. My plan after high-school was to join the military as a pilot and climb my way up the ranks in hopes of achieving that lifelong dream. I still talked to Chang’e every night about my progress, hopes, worries, and how amazing it would be to visit her in person one day.

At 16, in the summer of 2013, I was in a serious car accident that has left me permanently disabled, both physically and mentally. My short-term memory is barely there and my long-term memory severely fragmented. My eyes now needing glasses, they don’t track in unison and will only deteriorate as I age. Nerve damage with no cure and numbness in various parts of my body. When I was still in my early stages of recovery, I had severe amnesia and couldn’t even recognize my own family, let alone my own face or name. I had forgotten everything. I felt like a ghost, haunting a body that wasn’t mine. I didn’t recognize my friends from school anymore and I felt utterly alone. The girl I had been for the first 16 years of my life was dead, in many ways, and now, the only goal I had was to get as healthy as I could. 

As my recovery progressed, and some memories returned to me, I had to try to hold it together as one by one, each of my formerly achievable dreams disappeared beyond my reach. I kept telling myself that I just had to focus on getting as healthy as I could, and not put myself down just because the “old me” was gone. Much easier said than done. 

The hardest dream for me to give up was that of becoming an astronaut. It was one of the few dreams I had been able to hold onto throughout so many of my life’s hardships. I thought, maybe if I could get well enough, maybe I could still at least go to space commercially (not realizing at the time how expensive that is), but I had to come to terms eventually with the fact that my body will forever be earth-bound. Burying that dream wasn’t easy, and I knew that it was something I’d be mourning for the rest of my days. 

Fast forward to January 2021. 

My mom has been a writer since before I was born. The sound of her fingers typing away on a mechanical keyboard often lulled me to sleep growing up, so when she told my sister and me that she had won a spot in a writing contest, I couldn’t have been happier for her!! Then she shared the details with us, that her short story would be going to the moon on a tiny computer file and that she wanted to save a space for us each to send something as well. 

As I looked at the website, the maps of the Moon, the landing site, I broke down and burst into tears. All of those emotions that I had firmly held down since a childhood cut short; held back for that one big dream that gave me hope of better days yet to come and the nearly suicidal heartbreak I felt when I thought I had lost that dream for good, all came flooding to the surface. I cried for over an hour with my mom and sister, and then the entire way home and into bed afterwards. 

Writers on the Moon has given me more than I could have ever hoped for. Even if my body will always be earth-bound, my art, a piece of my very heart and soul, will make it there. One of my biggest fears since the accident is that I’ll forget myself again, but now, I know that I won’t. Every time I’ll look up at the night sky and see the moon, a piece of me will be reflected back. I cannot begin to tell you how much of a comfort that is. I have felt like a ghost for so long, my biggest lingering regret, never making it to space. This project will be undeniable proof that I am alive and I won’t be forgotten, even if I end up forgetting myself again later in life. 

Susan, Noelle, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’ve breathed life back into a dream I had long since thought was dead and I can never thank you enough for that. Because of you, my heart will be where it has always wanted to go.