“It’s Irish,” I tell them when, in fact, it’s not Irish. It’s pseudo-Irish. Yes, I am Irish, but not that Irish. My name is actually Welsh. Very similar and very often jumbled as the same thing. In Welsh, it means pearl, but not because Meghan’s have been perfectly crafted into a shiny object, or because they hold wisdom to lead. It is the Welsh cognate of Margaret. 

There is no backstory to my name. It probably came from a baby book or an old tv show that my parents watched. But it is strong. It is the deep aqua color of the ocean waves roaring during a storm. But also the calm tide lapping against the sand on a sunny day. It is the sound of the bass blasting in your headphones, with enough enthusiasm to lift your spirits, but also somewhat comforting to hear. It is strong. 

My name is often overlooked. It is so common, yet so easy to get it wrong first guess. Just a single letter difference, to make me feel different than the others walking the halls. But a single letter that makes me say “no, it’s spelled with an h,” time after time. Meghan, not Megan. 

Names are a weird thing. You never actually use your own name, unless you’re telling someone else what it is so they can use it. When you think of your name, and then yourself, does it really feel like you fit your name? I know I am the calming ocean waves, but powerful when I need to be. I have the laid back spirit that comes during spring break at the beach, only to be replaced with chaos when things get crazy. 

 What about other people with the same name? I carry myself with all the bass blasting enthusiasm I possibly can, do they? Even though we have the same name, we are not the same. We haven’t shared the same experiences or felt the same things. But why is that? Surely, who you are as a person, doesn’t depend on what your name is or how it is spelt. It depends on how you choose to carry your name. Powerfully, like the ocean, or quietly, like the bass in your eardrum. 

Am I really different from the others all because of a single letter? 

But It is my name. I get to say, “Meghan with an h.” Sure, there are other Meghan’s in the world and at school but they don’t come with a fun ice breaker. I cannot imagine myself with any other name, and frankly, I don’t want to. I am Meghan, sort of Irish and sort of different, but the strong pearl, being carefully crafted into the best version of me.