Shakespeare’s “Merchant of Venice”. The first place my name was ever used. The character with my name was a Jewish merchant. Jessica. Wise, fair, true, sympathetic. 

Perhaps she represents me in some ways. We share the name of crystal clear water bubbling over the stones of a creek. Like spending the day out in a forest, hiking through the greenery. The smell of tree sap hanging in the air, clung to every branch and leaf. Small mushrooms growing on the forest floor, with small creatures picking at them. A petite frog, just hopping along.

But—The merchant had a sour side. She was unkind to her father. Not me. I always cared for my dad. The warmhearted daughter he needed and cared about. He was unlike the merchant’s father. Involved. Loving. Wanted me to be happy. 

Perhaps she doesn’t represent me as well as I thought. Our environments were complete opposites, like different sides of a magnet. The Sun and the Moon. A fish in the ocean and an ant in the grass. She is not me. And I am more than her. With my reality rich like the finest dark chocolate, where I am not bound to a role that only exists in writing scrawled on the paper of long-dead trees. 

Some of my family members call me “Jessca”, forgetting the “i” entirely. A name of my childhood, when my brother couldn’t pronounce my name, and soon my whole house adapted this pronunciation.  But my name is incomplete this way. Reminding me of how the world is incomplete. How I am incomplete. Continuously growing. Growing like the nature that would surround you in the aforementioned forest. 

My name is like watching a flower bud turn into a flower. Growing. As I began to blossom, I grew out of it. Jessica became a shirt that didn’t fit anymore. And I, a small, friendly snake growing out of it’s skin, needing to shed it off. Jess. 

Jess is better representative of who I am. It’s the feeling of cool summer wind on your face after being cooped up on a long car ride. Refreshing. Like you are on the road to becoming a more authentic you. The sky above that road, a peaceful pale blue color, mingled with the yellow of the sun. Having a loved one spray canned whipped cream in your mouth until it spills out and all you can do is laugh with a mouthful of good times. Receiving the tiniest amount of sunburn on your nose and cheeks. 

However, my shortened name also reminds me of difficult times. Like darkness coinciding with the light. Muddy waters, muddy thoughts. The ache you feel in your chest when you miss something so deeply. The pain you feel when the thing stabbing you in the back the most is the words you direct at yourself. Bouncing your leg up and down and biting your fingernails until the surrounding skin turns crimson red, ready to bleed at any moment. 

This doesn’t mean my name is inherently bad. Just that it has many parts, as a flower has many petals and a tree has many leaves. 

A bud growing her petals. A sapling sprouting her branches and leaves. Embracing the sun, the wind, the cold, the rain, the darkness… 

Jessica, an ever growing collection of greenery.