I Lost My Name
A glimpse into a cycle.
Welcome to Love + Travel, a chronicle of adventure for people exploring landscapes within themselves and the world.
Last week, I shared my take on the book, Love, Rita: An American Story of Sisterhood, Joy, Loss, and Legacy. You can also view the entirety of my writing, here.
Sometimes, I show up to write and am blindsided by what easily pours out. Other times, I stop midway, not wanting to force anything. Pausing to revisit at a later date. That’s part of what I love about sharing my writing with you—it marks where I am in my journey, reflecting not just what I share but when I’m ready to share it.
In those moments of vulnerability, when I’ve shared my truest words, they stay with me—anchored on the page, in my heart, and within my spirit. These pieces serve as placeholders in the story of my life, a reminder that even when I pause, I’m not finished. I can always pick back up where I left off to share what needs to be freed.
That’s what sending out a bookmark for the first anniversary of Love + Travel felt like—a way of pausing and marking the chapter I was in, while also acknowledging there’s more to come. The bookmark was a symbol of this shared journey, a token for those who go the extra step to show how much they value my writing. To a handful of top readers, it was a way of recognizing the places where we are in each other’s stories.
I’ve started pouring over the list for recipients of this year’s gifts and noticed how many of those faithful readers from last year are once again among the top for this year. How we spend our time is how we spend our life, and I don’t take for granted the choice you make to hold my words in your hands. Thank you for seeing me; it’s a pleasure to celebrate you.
Enjoy today’s writing. I’ve let it take all the forms it arrived in.
R.
I lost my name on a mountain.
How? I can not say
It wasn’t a particularly windy day
The sun shined overhead
As it slipped and fell away.
Maybe there was a hole in my pocket or
It wasn’t properly secured to my pack
Who has to hold on to a name?
How does it become detached?
It tumbled down the ridgeline
I continued hiking the crest
It somersaulted off the the mountain face
Wind wrapping its entirety
A bird fleeing the nest.
No one told me I’d look different without a name.
That’s the unexpected part.
It’s a not-so-quiet desperation, as subtle as the banging of pots.
With a resonance ringing in the ears for just as long.
Obvious.
Is it a sheen? A gloss? A desperate, wide-eyed need for validation?
The look says: I’ll answer to anything.
The wind beckoned, carrying the sounds of the wild, and, with no name, I responded to them all.
I answered the harmonies of birds from the base of an oak and wandered to the ocean’s edge. The clicks of dolphins and the groans of whales wrapped me in their song.
I replied to howls at the moon when it hung brightly in the sky.
Noise fills the void better than the silence of disregard.
The dress works. I wear it.
It’s a wrap dress, to be specific.
Worn for certainty.
No name certainty.
Certainty, I will be erased by its distraction
Watch the slight of hand
Grey and cinched at the waist.
V cut with the perfect amount of leg.
Yes, and it always works.
Trusty as a pocketknife. Certain.
I get what I want.
There’s that control, again.
I’m too good at it.
I always get what I want
And then some
But that comes later.
A quick lipstick check.
An extra 8 minutes
I take one last look in the mirror
Confirming that everything I think about myself is true.
Out the car, across the parking lot, and into the cliche
And my name gathered beauty traveling in the crook of lovers' wrists.
The cliffside told of the allure in abrupt breaks.
And the sea’s insatiable mouth of the soothing power in a monstrous crash and roar.
A field of lavender sent its fragrance to the breeze, tinting everything in a shade of spring.
None of them overpowered one another. Each within its magical lane.
Nature’s open expression an invitation to transform.
You want to hold me.
Wrap me up to keep safe
I fear I will lose myself in the bright, beautiful sky of you.
Float off with a cloud
and leave you with no name to call behind.
I fear I will smudge your infinity.
My half-size to your expansiveness.
And you say,
You gentle the winds of the hurricane
And when lava and ash are sent towards the heavens, it doesn’t phase you at all.
You say the sky can hold it all.
Rainbows and storm clouds and you know I contain both.
You tell me to blaze and burn bright
To focus on my light, and my name will float back to me in the evening air.
The best love always points you back to yourself
And I do.
I’m a fireball, and I fall into you
Weary I’ll be swallowed whole
Consumed and forgotten by the sky
Instead, becoming a bright spot within your infinity
The sun in the sky
Where does dreaming end and reality begin?
And is it possible that things aren’t truly lost, but simply waiting to be found again?
To reclaim what was once as second nature as a curved spine welcoming sleep.
Dusted in the beauty of the world, my name found its way on the wings of a robin.
Who rested it on the corner of my mouth and I welcomed a syruped tongue in the morning dawn.
LET ME KNOW
Which lines resonated? What style of writing did you enjoy?
Are you a fan of bookmarks, or do you grab whatever is closest to save your page?
Have you read this book review yet?
City living or country living?
"And is it possible that things aren’t truly lost, but simply waiting to be found again?" ooof -- really hit me.