My Name by Morgane Evans

Early 2001: I’m born on the 21st of January. My parents name me Morgane de Lacey Searight Evans, or girl of the sea, conqueror of Wales, sea lord, son of Evan. I am named Morgane after Morgan le Fay, a powerful character in Arthurian legend; de Lacey, after an old family name; Searight, after my mother’s maiden name; and Evans, after my dad’s surname. I am the spitting image of my grandmother and have the unlimited imagination of a sorceress. Summer 2001: I dig my hands into the sand at White Point Beach Resort, Nova Scotia. My father’s family has been going here since it opened in the 1920s, but I am too young to know their stories. I put the sand in my mouth and look across the sparkly Atlantic Ocean. Spring 2005: My father and his cousin come back from Sibley Hospital. My grandmother died of cancer. She inhaled fumes as an abstract printmaker. Her imaginative career killed her, but I still admire her creativity and hope to use my own to tell stories. Mid-2007: I feel completely alone. My classmates’ laughs make me feel insecure. I am named after a powerful witch, but I have no strength within me against the taunts about how quiet I am and how odd I look. I want to hide from the world and go back to the calmness of the sea. Mid-2009: I Google a painting of Morgan le Fay. She looks just like me, except stronger and more magnificent. I want to become her, and I begin to ignore my bullies. Late 2011: I start reading Harry Potter and become consumed in Rowling’s magical universe. I begin creating a world that is entirely my own — a novel called Sliviya. Early 2012: My sister is born eleven years, one month, and one day after me. My parents name her Niniane, after the Lady of the Lake, sister of Morgan. I will tell her stories of magical realms and mysterious characters. Spring 2012: At my elementary school graduation, I have to read a poem about a cat; I’m terrified. My father tells me my voice was loud and strong. I don’t believe him. Summer 2014: At camp, my friend sings a rap based on my name. Luckily for him, my name, a prominent theme in his song, is easy to incorporate into his lyrics because it rhymes with organ. I laugh my grandmother’s laugh at his song and realize that people might like who I am. Early 2015: We learn about The Hobbit in school. I’m a die hard fan of Tolkien’s work and raise my hand to answer every question. My classmates give me looks, but I don’t care. Stories matter more to me than conformity. Summer 2016: My mother, sister, and I visit my maternal grandfather in Brazil. On a boat trip, I wade into the Atlantic Ocean and swirl water next to colorful fish. I feel free. My mother takes a picture, and I post it on Instagram. My friends comment on how beautiful I am, and I start to believe it. Spring 2018: My father and I visit Nova Scotia for college trips. We stay at my great-aunt’s house, and she tells me stories of my grandmother. My hair is a mixture of brown and pink, but my hazel eyes are still my grandmother’s. Over dinner, we eat lobster and tell stories. My family is intrigued by the novel I am writing called Lizard. I am far from my elementary school bullies, and I am at peace. Even though I’m not as powerful as Morgan le Fay, I have my grandmother’s unlimited imagination to create worlds that are entirely my own. I am a modern-day ocean sorceress with the power of storytelling. My story has so many chapters that haven’t been written yet, but I’ve already lived up to my name.