My name, Annabelle, is a pastel yellow. Soft, but filled with happiness. My name is like lace: delicate, not bold. My name is of Hebrew and French origin, Anna meaning “grace” and Belle meaning “beauty.” It exemplifies blooming flowers, off-white with small petals, also known as Annabelle Hydrangeas. The ones my mother planted and tended to in the springtime. 

It is the French countryside. Golden fields extending toward the horizon. Green, flourishing hills overlapping in the distance.  They’re generously scattered with wildflowers, adding specks of color to the picture-perfect view. 

My name is quiet but suggests hints of curiosity and adventure. The countryside is calm and reserved. Yet, it takes place in a foreign country halfway across the world. With amazing views that never end.

I was the first child, meaning my name would set the tone for the names yet to come. My parents desired a unique and classic name. Proper, yet could be shortened to fit my personality as I grew. At a young age, I insisted on Ana, and stubbornly never agreed to anything else. I eventually grew through that phase. My mom began to call me “AB,” which my close family members occasionally still call me. Other than that, my name has remained Annabelle, no shorter, no longer.  

Unlike others, I wasn’t named after a great grandmother or a loyal friend of the past, which makes my name authentic and original. My name dances off the tongue and twirls in the air as each syllable is spoken. It has a clear, yet simple elegance. 

My name is the first impression. The first defining factor to those I’ve just met. I hope that when others hear my name they think of the same things I do. I hope people think of my soft, yet complex personality, like lace. I hope they think of the beauty behind my name, unique like white Hydrangeas. I hope they see the same graceful countryside that I do. I love the message that my name sends and how it describes me.