In Greek, my name means to defend.  Alexis is like the color yellow. Not the first choice of many, but bright and happy.  You think of the sun beaming down on the children as they run around in the heat of day.  Loud not in words, but like a gunshot quickly fired.

My mom gave me this name.  When she was younger she would dream of the kids she would have and think about the beautiful names she would give them.  She and her brother played house and every time she pretended that she had a baby girl. She always knew the baby would be named Alexis—no other name would do.

My mom’s brother was killed in a car accident, and her mom died not too short after.  She lost half of her family within the span of two years, but she held onto the memories of playing house with her brother.  She held onto my name. My name reminds my mother of a time when her family was whole.  

When I was born, I was named Alexis right away.  My grandma was there, wearing her beautiful purple sweater, knitted loosely, but it hung onto her figure.  Those amethyst rings that seemed to be glued on her fingers. Whenever I got a card from her, in a white envelope with her perfect handwriting of my address and name on the front, my name would always be in purple.  She used a different color for each grandchild.  

It is fitting that my name means to defend because I have always been a goalie.  So every time I step out onto the field I am living up to my names reputation. My coaches, teammates, friends, and family all use my name so much that it has begun to sound like a waterfall.  The water flowing beautifully, but constantly crashing onto the still water below.

My name might not be the prettiest name or the most common, but it is unique.  My mom calls me Lexi. It is prettier than Alexis. Everyone else just calls me Alexis.  I would not change my name, it means a lot to my mom, and so it means a lot to me.