Maria. It’s like a dark red. Maybe a dark purple. A dark colored purple flower with yellow lines swirling to the center that you would find in Hawaii. I picture my name being written in flames atop a volcano. When I hear the name, “Maria”, My name almost has a tangible feeling. As if it grew legs and moved to America from Spain or Italy... maybe even Greece or Egypt.

In English, my name is the plural form of Mare: a female horse. It is Latin for Mary, mother of Jesus. I do not know how my mom thought of the name, though it’s a popular name in Latin America.

Typically, I just go by Maria. I have a plethora of nicknames, even nicknames from my nicknames, such as Diggy or Scooter. I don’t mind them at all. In fact, they’re pretty cute.

My middle name is after my mom’s name. Marcella. Regarding my first name, I do not know who I’m named after, if I am named after anyone.

Parents sometimes change their adopted child’s name, but mine remained the same. I like how my first name stayed the same. My full name was Maria Fernanda. It was changed to Maria Francis. Same initials- cool, right?

I like my name. I used to not like it because I thought it didn’t flow well. I didn’t like my initials, simply because of what others could think an offensive name to say to anyone. When I was younger, I wanted to change my name. I wanted to change it because I thought it was so rare. I didn’t like how it was so long. “Maria Francis” seemed too long when said. At the least, I wanted to change my name to Marie. I thought that name was more common, especially as a middle name, and it seemed way shorter.

Now, I don’t mind.

Now I like my name and am going to keep it. I like how it signifies a flower yet a fire. Delicate yet strong. I admire how I picture Spain, Italy, Greece, or even Egypt when I hear the name. I hear Spanish music or picture ancient Roman and Greek sculptures. When I read the name Maria, I picture it being written inside the scrolls that were placed inside the Library of Alexandria in Egypt.