My Name Returns

The receptionist asked, “Name?”

And for a second I almost answered

with the version you used on me

The nickname that made me smaller

and kept you smiling.

﹁﹂

But the room was bright,

too bright for old scripts.

A plant leaned toward the window

like it believed in leaving.

﹁﹂

So I said my real name.

Plain. Full.

It landed on the counter

with a soft thud,

like a book closing.

﹁﹂

She repeated it back,

pronounced it right,

no joke attached,

no eye-roll,

No “that’s difficult.”

﹁﹂

My throat did something weird

opened.

I felt it in my ribs

like a latch letting go.

﹁﹂

In the waiting area,

A kid swung his legs

and hummed off-key

And nobody corrected him.

Imagine that kind of mercy.

﹁﹂

I kept hearing my name

in my head after that,

not as a label,

But as proof.

﹁﹂

I walked outside

and tried it again, quietly

just to see if it was still mine.

It was.

﹁﹂

And I believed it,

which is new,

And I’m not sure what comes next.