My name is Sydney, a name chosen out of a list of movie credits by the eyes of desperate parents.. A spanish name given to a girl from a history of French Canadians. A name meant for my older sister but got voted for her when a comment was made by a coworker. “You can call her SID for short! Like Sudden Infant Death Syndrome!” Yet the name carried on to me with the change of one letter. “Sy” instead of “Si” makes a difference. My name is sand grains stuck in your teeth from eating a sandwich on the beach. A twitch in your leg when you are on a nerve. My name is a language no one speaks. It comes out of everyones mouth as if they are talking to an infant, unable to comprehend. My name should be Anastasia, Clare, or Natalie. These names are floating butterflies in the breeze. They are a sweet song sung by the orioles outside the bedroom window.
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