October 24, 2017

For some people, a name has a purpose filled with emotion and identity.
I am not one of those people.
For me, a name is but only an agreement.
My name is just a close on a deal.
It is something agreed upon by two very different people.

When my parents named me they used the same process they’ve relied on through life,
They didn’t communicate and they didn’t have a plan.
They rarely agreed on ideas much less a name.
I am my mother’s first born child and my father’s last.
Like most aspects of my life, my name wasn’t discussed, it was argued.

My parents started their journey 16 years apart,
In two different generations,
My mother in her 30s and my dad in his 50s.
It was my mother’s turn to live a life with children.

I am my mother’s wish,
my mother’s choices,
my parents’ lies.

Sometimes people lie to make their wishes a reality.
Lies are communications failing to reach their recipient.

My name is a miscommunication,
My name is an argument.

For some people, communications are meaningful and filled with understanding.
My parents are not some of those people.
My parents’ choices were never distinguished as solid decisions.
My parents never understood their own identities, so why should they understand mine.

I am my mother’s daughter,
my mother’s wishes,
my parents’ lies.
It’s no wonder my name lacks its own identity.

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