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The Symphony of Names
Sofia is the name of royalty, wisdom, and class. My name originates from Spain. Sofia. It means philosophy, or wisdom. Sofia is an unofficial princess. It’s a beautiful and unique name. It’s like wearing a ball gown in a park. Different from the rest. It stands out. It’s even spelled different from Sophia, the normal way. While my name may be Sofia, I like to think I can be different. I prefer to think of myself as a Sofi.
Yes, Sofi suits me much better. Sofi is messy hair, it’s laying in the grass, it’s climbing a tree. Sofi is a busy street, full of vendors, angry drivers, and stray dogs.
When I think of Sofi, I think of an open field. It’s the park that Sofia dances upon in her elegant dress. They are two parts of a whole. Like Yin and Yang. Sofi feels like a child. Free and smiling. She loves to stomp in puddles and go on adventures in the woods. Sofi lives in her imagination.
My name was hand-picked by my parents. From an ocean of names, they chose that one. I do not know why. Perhaps they found the name appealing; like sparkling glass. With an intricate design and smooth texture. I was charged with the care of this name. To show it off in all of its glory.
Sofia was the name of several queens in spain. I wonder if those queens were happy or not. Did they like their name? Or were they a Sofi at heart too?
If I had the option, would I change my name? That’s quite a proposition.
Perhaps not. Sofia is unique; it produces so many different variations. Different flavours. It’s like the symphony of names. Every letter different, but beautiful all the same.
I find my nicknames comforting. Like a warm blanket. The different combinations like the different scents of a home. All pleasant. All nostalgic. Those names would never have come to be if I were named something else. Sofi. Soapy. Sobi. Sof. Sofa. I shiver when I imagine those names disappearing.
My parents can never remember my name. every time they need something, they go off the list. “Maria. Rebecca. Nicolas. Sofia.” Sofia. Always last.
In truth, Sofia gets a bad rep. Yes it’s a gorgeous name, but so many people underestimate its power. While I may not completely identify with my given name, that doesn’t mean I hate it. Sometimes I am Sofi, other times I am Sofia.
I love all parts of myself. The highs and the lows. the good and bad. I embrace my name. I embrace myself.
I may not be a princess, I may not be wise, nor am I classy, but I am still me. Sofia.
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This is my first ever TeenInk piece! I was assigned to write an essay about my name based off:
“My Name” by Sandra Cisneros
Excerpted from The House on Mango Street
I personally found her work very itriguing, so this was an exciting piece to write. Thank you for taking your time to read this work, It makes me really happy. :)