Her Name.

A time capsule from a decade ago

Miss Miller (in red) with her older brother, January, 2012

Cleaning out my iCloud storage, I came across the following journal entry from 2013, from waaaay before Miss Miller changed her name at school with all her teachers and friends. Some of them don’t even know her birth name. True story.

Now in 2023, almost three years after that seismic event, reading this journal entry gives me butterflies, like a teenager in love. It’s as if I’ve unearthed a relic from an exotic land in the faraway past. I so want to share this piece without editing her name. But I know that the moment I press ‘publish,’ I will come up with a hundred reasons why I shouldn't have done that. It won’t pack nearly the same punch, but I can live with that. The meaning will hopefully remain intact.

It never goes away completely, the tension surrounding a child’s made-up identity, even when it’s not an issue day-to-day. Of course there are those moments, like when a package arrives for her made-up name, or we receive an email from the school regarding our child whose name we did not choose. Or when I hear her cluster of friends shriek her “chosen” name in the hallways at school.

At home though, she is _____. And _____ she will remain. Please let her enter college as _____ too. But I’m not holding my breath. Disappointment shatters my delusions of a deprogrammed daughter in waves spread out over a sea of salty years.

***

So, you see that girl with the straight brown hair and big brown eyes? The one with the big smile? Maybe she looks a teensy bit like, Oh boy, what’s going to happen now? This is making my heart race, but in kind of a good way.

I suppose there are a few girls in the room that fit the description. But the one I’m talking about, her name starts with a __. Then it goes, __, __, Then __, then __, __, __.

Some people, when she tells them her name, they say, _____! What a neat name! Is that short for something?

She shakes her head no. “It’s JUST _____.”

But we know it’s short for _____ when she’s in a fancy mood. It’s long for _____, when it’s time to come to the table or put down a card during UNO. It rhymes with _____, which she can be if her friends aren’t available to play. (_____ LOVES to play.) And it means FREE.

Free, as in “free spirit.” Have you heard of this? Being a free spirit? _____ draws and dances with passion, for instance. There’s something free-spirited about that. She loves to joke and think deeply and converse about all sorts of things, like our two dogs, and school, and fashion and friends and even sometimes her hair and skin. Her mind is free to wander, wonder, analyze and invent.

Sometimes I tell her, Hey _____. I want to be like you when I grow up. And she looks at me like I have about three heads. Because I’m 43 and she’s 6 and a half. 6 and 3 quarters, really.

Once I even asked _____ if she would marry me but she said no. Oh well. I guess it’s probably better this way, with her as the daughter I always wanted, and me as the Mommy.

I love _____ so much that sometimes I run out of Os. As in Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much.

The truth is, I always wanted a daughter. When I found out I was having a girl I was so excited. And when she finally was born I was like, NO WAY! She’s even better than I imagined! I couldn’t imagine a better girl for me than _____.

Every day I am so thankful I get to be _____’s mom, and so thankful to get to know such a cool, lovely, creative, smart, happy, free-spirited kid like her. Even if she won’t marry me.

💖