Sunday, September 14, 2014

WHEN

I wrote this for my creative writing class and decided to share it on here. Our assignment was to write about our names. So here it goes.

                When I was born, “Jordan” stood for beauty.  The beauty of a newborn.  The beauty of hope for a new life.  The possibilities are endless for someone whose life had only begun moments ago.  This baby might’ve been all kinds of things.  Perhaps Jordan would be a movie star; an engineer; a professional athlete; a designer.  Maybe Jordan would end up having bright blue eyes like her mom and gorgeous, wavy locks of hair that were as dark as midnight.  But after I was taken home from the hospital, no one thought of those things.  Because “Jordan” had a new meaning.  This Jordan that they brought home would scream and fuss and be annoying.  Between changing endless diapers and feedings in the middle of the night, there was no time to think of beauty.
                When I started school, “Jordan” meant shy and terrified.  I would cry and scream when my mother left me.  I hated strangers.  I wasn’t good with new people.  The teachers shushed me and promised a day of fun activities and learning.  Eventually, I would calm down.  Except for this one time when I actually made myself so sick from crying that I threw up.  The principal of my preschool called my   mom and sent me home.  I continued to be this intimidated, scared girl throughout kindergarten as well.  I refused to even smile for pictures.  Mrs. Mosher sent my report card home with 3s and 4s and a comment that said: “Jordan is one of the smartest students in my class.  I’ve just never seen her smile.”
                When I got to middle school, “Jordan” meant intelligent and friendly.   Just not friendly enough to be friends with the popular kids.  I worked hard and got all A’s all three years because that was the only way I knew to make my parents proud.  When I wasn’t acing my classes, I was doing my best to weasel my way into the popular crowd.  I changed my style of clothes and began to talk more.  I stopped hiding behind books and graphic tees and found myself dating one of the football players.
                When two and a half years had passed, “Jordan” meant depressed and lonely and breakdowns every five minutes.  The football player left and his friends were mean.  I dropped by school once a week to grab my work.  I stayed home where the words and perfectly manicured hands could not reach me.  This Jordan could also be known as pathetically hopeful.  Little did she know that just because you date someone for 2 and a half years does not mean they are your soulmate or that you belong together.
                When it was January of 2013, “Jordan” meant hope.  Hope for new adventures; hope that life would be better; hope that I could get away from a specific person in my family.  It was in the middle of my sophomore year that I moved with my mom and sister to Washington- 2,371 miles from my hometown of Waterford, Michigan.   I started at a school that had five buildings and sixteen portables.  There was an entire building dedicated to fine arts and two dedicated to sports.  The other buildings were several stories and long hallways filled with opportunities.  2,000 shiny new people wandered the school.  I kept my head down and waited for someone to say hi.
                It is now within the first month of my senior year and “Jordan” has a definition that has never been heard before.  Now, my name radiates bravery.  It waves to people in the hallway and holds doors open for strangers.  “Jordan” is a story of courage and kindness.  My name is strong enough to get up every morning to go to school and it compliments people who seem to be having a rough day.  “Jordan” is the name of someone who did not quit and is going to survive and go to school thousands of miles away from here and is going to be happy and write a lot and play guitar and sing about how love doesn’t always work out but it’s okay because everything happens for a reason.  “Jordan” is the motivational speeches I give and the anonymous accounts I have online to stop suicide.  It is the older sister protecting the younger.

It is the story of change; of beauty, and intelligence, friendliness, hope, and bravery.   “Jordan” is the story of a girl who had the world figured out by age ten but still believed that it could be a wonderful place.  And although every website says the definition of my name is “to descend” or “to flow down” like the river that runs between the countries of Jordan and Israel, I disagree.  My name means a whole lot more than to be like a river.  My name is a story.  A story that isn’t over just quite yet.


-Jordan xx

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