In Arabic, it means heaven. Peaceful and quiet. It’s like the number 5. Short and sweet like a little yellow finch. Like a lily swaying in the breeze. A light pink color. It’s sitting on the front stoop listening to the chirp of the bluebirds and enjoying the morning sunshine. 

Most people are named after someone in their life. Maybe even something that they love. Not me. Not anything special but born on Friday the 13th—it’s supposed to be bad luck, but I’m not superstitious. My name isn’t scary. My name isn’t similar to my relatives. It’s not unique. 

But my name is colorful. The ocean on a sunny day. No waves, a little breeze. Serene. People laughing and running on the beach, having fun. Not a care in the world. Staying up all night and sleeping in late. The feeling of the first day of summer. 

Jenna. A nice breeze, while running in the field. The warm rays of sunshine and a huge smile that goes from ear to ear. Timid but firey. Fun. Loving and caring. The girl next door kind of name. 

Soft and sweet. Quiet and calm. Like a monarch butterfly resting on marigolds in the early morning. Sweet like a dove perched on a birdbath taking a sip of the fresh cold water. 

At school, I have a few nicknames. Jen and Jenny. Nothing too hard to say. It could be worse—uglier, longer, harder to pronounce. But Jenny is childish, not mature like Jen. Jen is sophisticated yet simple. Only I don’t go home and have my parents call me something other than the name they picked.

I will always be Jenna. I don’t want it to change. I like my name. My name isn’t complicated or hard to say.  It fits me and my personality. Just like the ocean. Calm.