Pure and innocent. Saint Kathryn. People that aren’t me. Words that have never been used to describe me. 

Independent and rambunctious. Maybe I'd like my name more if that was the meaning. Maybe if my name actually matched my personality, or even my look. I’ve been told I don’t even look like a Kathryn. 

If I were to have a say I would’ve chosen something strong, something common but unique. Something that could produce a nice nickname. A nickname that sticks and reminds people of me. Not Kathy, Kat, Kath, or Kate.

Choppy, straight to the point. How I would describe the sound. It doesn’t roll off the tongue, but interrupts it. Kathryn. It’s Different. It all resembles an imagination, a strong one at that. 

Kathryn is the soft crashing of waves along a rough violent shore, with a smell of salt hiding in the air. A warm ray of sunlight followed by slight chatter of seagulls. The places I've been. The places I've lived. The places I love. 

My name is my grandma. Although her name isn’t Kathryn, hearing it just reminds me of the oils she rubbed on my wrist to help me fall asleep. It is her house that always had a certain smell that I couldn’t describe if I wanted to. It is the leaky basement with half done wooden projects and fishing lures. It is the microwave meatloaf meals I thought she had cooked herself. 

My name was going to be Cameron. I would have preferred this over Kathryn. It produces better nicknames, and I feel like it describes me better overall. I also like how it can be a boy name or a girl name. 

Given the chance now, I wouldn’t change my name. No matter how much the nicknames, the association, or even the harsh vowels bother me. Kathryn is me. What I have always been called. 

The meaning of Kathryn is pure and innocent, the color white. But to me it means rowdy, energetic, always bright. It’s any shade of blue. Not a sad shade of blue, but a bright vibrant one. The kind of color that reassures you on a bad day. 

 I’d like to think I gave it a new meaning.