In Irish origin my name means poet. 5 letters, an odd number. Not quite the typical, baby girl’s name. Spelled differently than most. The uniqueness gives the name an association with creativity. With standing out. As if the name were a paintbrush, creating lilac strokes of color along hydrangea petals on a blank canvas. As if the blank canvas was propped up on an easel in Copenhagen, Denmark in the Springtime. An old tree that has ridges in its bark, smoothed over from decades of wear and tear. 

My parents always told me that they picked out my name before they had kids. But only for a girl. After having my two older brothers they ran out of boy names. Luckily, I am not a boy. 

I didn’t always enjoy my name. Most little girls don’t want to be stuck with a boy’s name. Telling my mother this would sadden her. She specifically chose that name out of millions. just. for. me. 

Now, I know my mom knew me better than I ever knew myself. From the moment I was born, whether I knew it or not, I was a Devyn. 

My name is not long and drawn out. It’s Short and Sweet. A haiku. A poem that gets the point across. A structure of 5-7-5. Consistently odd.

Maybe my name just didn’t fit me when I was younger. It's possible that I grew into my name. Like how a flower blossoms from a bulb into a floret after being watered and receiving sunlight. The seed was always there, it just needed some time to flourish. 

The first hydrangea flower that has bloomed at the brink of warmth after a long winter. Standing tall and bright. The lilac color gives off a sense of elegance. All things I strive to add to my own blank canvas. The roots of a tree. Growing deeper into the Earth to become more structurally sound for itself over time. Forever growing. 

As I write my personal poem, I think I will stick with the name Devyn.