My name means ‘gift of Yahweh,’ which is ironic
considering I don’t believe in deities,
and even more so since I was the sole reason
for my parents’ marriage in the first place,
and it wasn’t a happy one. If I were to guess,
they probably had no idea. But come to think of it,
even if I had a name as solid as Peter,
I would still have to get used to being alone
and learn to live with the pain
gradually spreading throughout my arm.
And while I never liked it, it seems having a name
chosen on a whim wasn’t the worst thing after all.