Naming the child

I had a story of how my life began but it turned out to be only one perspective. As an embryo my name was Jill. But on arriving into the world my name became Susan. My sister is named after an old flame of somebody or other.

My best friend (when I was 4 and 5) had a daddy and he called me Sukey, She was called Catherine but he always named her as Polly. He was a sickly man, spent days upon days in bed, with a stone jar filled with hot water and a house full of medicine. He would sing the nursery rhyme of Polly and Sukey and kettles and tea. And we would dance and laugh around the bed.

The first and unfortunate nickname I was given – elephant features was replaced by most everyone when I hit 13 and I became The SoupDragon. One person still will call me soups but the one who named me took his life when faced with “child” type charges.

When at the age of 21 I became Mrs. Gallagher it was all a bit of a shock but all my people from then on named me Suzie up till now.

You see I don’t fit a name as such, Doris was convinced I was Rosie and Heather thought Jessie was a good name for me and there was a nurse I worked with once had Noreen on her mind.

God named me via JA house in Milton Keynes. He called me steadfast and so in my head, I am steadfast and true, Susan as my daddy named me all those years ago.

One day the world, my friends, and family will catch up with my mind. My name is not important. As people get to know me now they hear the word Susan, but then change to Sue or Suze. 

But for me, now this day, my name is not important. My identity is, for sure. You can call me anything but Jesus calls me “mine”.