Vicenza became Genevieve when
she landed on American soil at the
turn of the century. What’s in a name?
I wonder if she asked herself as she
discarded the very one she had been
carrying around.
I never met her, never saw her eyes
sparkle with mischief but I like to
think my spirit is hers.
My sister’s daughter is a Genevieve,
by way of her middle name. She will
know less of Vicenza than even I do.
Still, I’ll tell her how my great great
grandmother threw spaghetti at the wall
to make her grandchildren laugh.
That she left home to build a life in the
unknown. That maybe she wondered
who her granddaughters and their
granddaughters might be.
So that this Genevieve will think of
her too. So that one day she may
stop to ask herself what’s in a name?
Hannah Napier Rosenberg is a poet who writes about experiences navigating womanhood, relationships and life in her thirties. She especially loves finding magic in the mundane. You can find her poetry blog on Instagram @hannahrowrites and get in touch by email at hannahrowrites@gmail.com.
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