My Name

December 7, 2009
Hannah. In Hebrew it means ‘grace.’ I love dancing, so maybe this name was meant for me. Sometimes I don’t think so, but it’s never a big deal. I wasn’t named after anyone, just a random name drawn out of a hat. Okay not literally drawn out of a hat, but it was just randomly picked. My mom wanted to name me Charlotte, and call me Charlie for short, but my dad didn’t like it. I think I would have liked this name a lot better, but whatever. I don’t have any problems with my name. It’s plain, simple. When someone needs to write it down, they don’t mess up the spelling. Whether I’m ordering a drink at Starbucks, or putting clothes on hold in the mall, they spell it right. I may have to really make the ‘H’ obvious, but that’s all. Sometimes they ask, just to clarify, if it is Hannah, and not Anna, but after that they spell it right. I like the fact that I wasn’t named after anyone. I think it gives me some originality. I don’t have to live up to any ancestors; I don’t have to follow anyone’s footsteps. I get to make my own path, follow my own lead, and make my own footprints in the ground.

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