Names

On my mother's side, I am the odd one out. My siblings have African and Hebrew names; family names and an attempt by our mother to put her own spin on our past and heritage. It's complicated, but then again for those of us with ancestors stolen and enslaved and colonized - what isn't?

On my father's side things are different. My father chose my name when he was a teenager as he chose the name of his son. Long after youth had fled to his mouth and his eyes, giving up space for wisdom, my father remembered and used the names he'd wanted his children to have.

My brother and I meet.

I say, hello my name is                   .

He says, hello my name is            .

We smile and hug and the distance of time and years between us cannot take another breath. It dies hungry as my brother and I laugh. There has never been a separation.

The Rymyth Project