My sixth grade class had three Sara’s. All without the dreaded ‘h’ attached at the end. All with a newly acquired set of “four eyes.” All with wild hair and immense imaginations.
It was rare that I was the only Sara within my group of classmates. It was rare that my popular biblical name was greeted with an exclaimed statement of wonder at its first uttering, during its first introductions over handshakes. It was rare that someone mispronounced it, for they’d surely heard it some place else before.
But I had surely thought about my name, as well: how it was chosen after Abraham’s wife, how her name was changed to this in a binding covenant with the Lord. How it means “princess,” and how the ‘h’ was dropped by a mother who wanted her daughter to stand out a little. How it is simple yet sweet, still classic, always timeless. How it is the only way to sum up all the pieces of the person I was meant to be.
In my senior year of high school, during creative writing class, I had to write about my name. And in an entry dated January 23, 2008, this is what I had to say:
“It has the shade of deep purple, a throne covered in white lilies and magnolias…It starts softly with peace, but is interrupted by the crashing of ocean waves. It is standard with the court, a high ranking among monarchs and majesties. It can be polished to a first class rate with a fancy ball gown and glass slippers, with a suitor on it’s arm (a Prince Charming, if you will). It may dance the night away, but as the clock strikes twelve, it must dissolve into its former state: concise and simple. A kingdom confined and hidden within four letters.”
Deep down, I knew then that I was made for big things. I knew that this small town girl, with a passion for carefully crafted sentences, with a love for sparkles and a belief in the magic of fairytales was a dreamer deep, deep down inside. I knew that even though those pieces nurtured me and made me, I was destined to do big things. That I am destined for plenty of happiness. That there is a great wealth of magical moments in store for me. That four letters really can tell a story, and that I was made to create my own.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”
Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet