My Name: A Contradiction

My name is a contradiction. Elizabeth means my god is an oath, and yet I have no god. Anne means grace, something that I lack in my life. Fraser is considerable power and strength, where I’m weak and have the power of a grain of sand in the Sahara. That is what my name means to others, but when I hear my name I see, smell, hear, feel, and taste something different. I see the vibrant turquoise of the ocean, the deep, rich red of the Australian dirt. It is the delicate white blossom of the strawberry plant being blown about, limp like a rag doll. It’s that awkward silence. The sweet zing of raspberry on your tongue, and yet the spicy zap of red pepper. It is the light breeze on a still, hot day.

My name is the squeak of shoes on the gym floor. It’s the quick zip of a hairbrush through your hair. It is the horrendous odor of soccer socks wafting from my bag. It is the taste of blood, the heat of sweat, and the trickle of tears. It is the pride of success and the agony of defeat. It is the satisfying swish of the net as the winning goal is scored. My name is the crisp crunch of leaves underfoot, shivers down your spine. It is an embrace. It is questions unanswered. It is memories, my name is me.