It’s quite simple. Or maybe it’s not, but either way that’s what it is.
Maybe you can’t pronounce it or maybe you don’t care. Maybe you’d try it if it were in books or the name of a character of a great movie love affair.
It is not Raquel or Rachel or Kelly, and most especially NOT (in my case many people’s favorite) “R-Kelly”.
Yes, that’s right I was not named after a rapper. And actually, for that matter I was not named after anyone in particular at all. Yet, someone in the future might get to be named after the person writing all of this on your wall.
I still have yet to meet that certain someone who might share my name. It might be a girl or even a boy, or maybe a captive lion somewhere crying in a cage.
My name is not a fruit or a symbol nor a color in the sky. It does not hold stories of the past and does not end with the letter Y.
It does not mean sun or moon nor peace or grace. It could probably quite simply in my mother’s eyes describe the shape of my face.
And no, it does not come from a long and inherited race. It really just does not come from any place.
My name was chosen just for me. Given by those who love me most dearly.
My name was chosen close to a summer’s day. Maybe over a joke or a thought or a smile, or maybe over a birthday wish my mother made only minutes away.
My name is special she says, and that’s all I really need. Because it’s really her that makes it that way, not an explanation or a specific reason to be.
She’s my person and the one who gave me this name you see, so for those of you who have not caught on… my name is not Raquel, or Rachel nor Tom or Betty.
My name she said, is Raqueli.