There are many names I call myself. No, not stupid, although I DO call myself that fairly often: I mean job titles like mom, wife, teacher and student. I also call myself names like artist, motorcycle rider, jeweler, horseback rider, cat mom, cook, chocolate consumer (yum) and sleepyhead. Doughnut lover, Earl Grey hot tea drinker (with cream, not lemon) and cinnamon toast baker are also among my descriptive names. I am book reader, husband back scratcher, and mom advice giver.
A montage of roles, all adding up to one slightly eccentric person who still enjoys living at my advanced age. There are many names you probably call yourself, too – are you happy with most of them? I am pretty satisfied with most of my own name labels, and the names that others call me are their own concern. Much less important than the names I claim for myself.
I see places inside me that no other person sees. Those are not always places I share with others, and those are not always names I call aloud. Some names are just for me, and perhaps those names are the most special ones of all.