My name is Kathryn. 

My name is Kathryn on the first day of school. At the doctor’s office and the hospital. On my birth certificate and my driver’s license. Yet, if you ask anyone who really knows me, my name is not Kathryn. 

My name is Katie. 

My name is Katie when I am home. When I am at my grandparent’s house, where it smells just like Georgia peaches. When I am jumping into the lake to escape the summer heat, or walking through my garden. 

Yet, I love the name Kathryn. I love how it looks when it is written in cursive. How it curls like ribbons on a birthday present. How it looks on jewelry boxes and baby pictures. I love that my name is traditional, but more quirky than Katherine or Catherine. Kathryn is like a wildflower. Beautiful and delicate, yet wild and unique. 

My name reminds me of my family. It connects me and my brothers, “the triplets”. My parents purposely gave us names that match. William, Benjamin, and Kathryn are all shortened to Will, Ben, and Katie. It always makes me happy to hear those three names, in that same order.

The name Katie seems to represent a different side of me. Like a more fun, carefree version of Kathryn. It is the name I hear from friends and family. Katie is the side of me that is cheerful and carefree, the side of me that still loves to play outside and run around in the rain. 

Kathryn is the side of me that is responsible, and organized, the side that does my school work and shows up on time to doctor’s appointments. 

Katie and Kathryn represent two different sides of me, but they are both important. I love my name. I love Kathryn, I love Katie, and I love the two sides of me that they each represent. My name is Kathryn. My name is also Katie. If given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing.