In a strange twist of an innocent chat with a friend, he asked me if I think I'm really Vera Leigh.
I said no.
Vera Leigh sounds very cool to me. I hate the word cool but it's the only word I can think of to describe how my name makes me feel all sunny and powerful.
But I haven't felt my name in a long time now.
I miss my name.
The way Vera ends in an a. Not necessarily the a that comes with an h, like ah; just a. This a makes me feel like I'm a real girl. Or a woman poised to show herself off. This a believes she's unique and knows she can pull her confidence off.
And I miss the way Leigh flirts in a curve that doesn't know where to end. It sways. The ey is a confusion to most people. Some would ask me if they ought to say leee. I wrinkle my nose, and say no. It's a lEY. I'm proud of that sway, and I want them to keep it that way.
Vera Leigh complement each other. Perfect together. Once, I believed that only I have that combination of a name in the whole wide world.
About a year ago, I asked my mom how she came up with my name. She told me she was pregnant that time with her still nameless third child when she met this woman in a place called Maasin. The woman told her she has a daughter named Vera Leigh.
My mother must have lodged a little secret in her head that very moment, with the woman's voice trailing off as she began imagining her own Vera Leigh.