I hear the teacher call the name “Ashley” as I sit down in class. 

It takes me a second to process that my name was being called out as my attention span staggered in and out of reality. She calls me to grab my test in the front of the classroom. My name. The only way for others and myself to know who I am as an individual. 

Seven billion people on this planet, my name is the one that is being called out.

She says my name pleasantly, like a field of colorful flowers. The lucky number Seven. The feeling of kindness that makes your heart melt. The sound of happiness when people reunite. A soft-sounding name like a quiet marsh with long flowing grasses and a comforting tone as a tranquil waterfall flowing down cliffs of rocks. 

Six letters. Derived from the old English words æsc (ash) and lēah (forest glade). It originally referred to a meadow where ash trees were found, and then became an English family name. It makes me wonder how such a small name can hold a significant meaning. 

It is like the color yellow. A kind color symbolizing happiness, optimism, and creativity. But, lurking in the background is the darker side of yellow: cowardice, judgment, and irritability. Or the color white - innocence and purity. Contrasting, there’s isolation and coldness. Like a solitary daisy in a field of flowers on a sunny day.

My parents picked out a name associated with creativity and passion. someone who does good deeds. People with the name “Ashley” are loving and caring by nature; just like the sun that provides warmth to the Autumn air. Just like my name, I am optimistic, creative, and I like to comfort the people around me to feel at peace; however, I get my energy from being alone rather than near groups of people.

My full name is Ashley, but people call me “Ash.” Throughout the years, I have grown to favor my nickname. “Ash” is an uncommon, yet powerful name. It reminds me of the beautiful ash trees I see growing on this earth. The fire that gives me strength and the perseverance to continue moving forward. “Ashley,” pulls me back into a somewhat childish world where horses roam in fields of flowers.