A Good Name for a Human

Brown was the color of the corduroy pants

Peeking out from under tulle tutus.

Monster trucks in the mud and vroom-vroom sounds.

The child with the Princess Elsa dress fitted over a bulldozer-print shirt.

Large dark eyes with thick, curling lashes and long black feathered hair:

He's too pretty to be a boy, an old man in the supermarket once leered,

His comment jarring.

Your daughter is beautiful

More strangers would say.

Children are creative at this age

The teachers would say.

There are many ways to be a boy

The picture books would say.

Probably grow up to be gay- not that there's anything wrong with that

My mother would say.

No mama, not a merman, a mermaid

My 3-year old child insisted.

No mama, I'm not a princess boy!

Don't get it twisted.

We awoke one spring morning

to a beautiful burst of Rhododendron blooms in the backyard.

Oh! They're just the most beautiful Violet color I could ever ask for!

Having moved in over the winter,

We didn’t know what secrets the gardens had locked away.

Violet. My child echoed

Staring out through the glass slider.

That's a good name for a human, she said

After a long pause.

We locked eyes, and I knew.

I had just met my daughter for the first time.