I dub thee Vany

I can remember Africa before Abraham was born. Mom was pregnant and I prayed to God against my two existing brothers that he would be a she. But my prayers were to no avail. Regardless, I spent half of my childhood fighting over who got to play with him. Strange enough, the other half of my adolescence I'm not sure I knew that he existed. Sadly he became more of a piece of furniture, blending ever so nicely into the woodwork of our ranch style country home. Just Ham. I was more concerned with my teenaged obsessions of school, friends, and learning to drive. Now that I am home he's pretty much my closest companion, other than Alexus, the family dog. But for so long, I wished that I wasn't the only girl. Recently I discovered that my cousin is having a baby. It's her second child. I think I expected it to be a boy. Never once did I ask the babies sex. Over dinner the other night mom brought it up, revealing that Viola would be mother to a girl. And the flame rose in me. The same one that had monopolized by bite sized prayers for Abraham when I was 4. It's amazing how we can feel want or know something so passionately and then forget that the feeling ever existed at all. Then Abraham asked, what will her name be. Mom said Veronica.
Last Christmas my aunt was rediagnosed with breast cancer. She came here from Africa to receive medical attention. Right after school last summer, I received a call. Mom said auntie wasn't doing well. Regardless of her will to live, 3 or 4 days later Auntie passed away. Auntie's name was Veronica.
Often I've wondered about names. Do you become a name, or does a name becomes you. Take for instance my friend Nunz. Of course that's not her given name, her birth name, but it is her real name. It is her. If her picture were on a sheet of paper and below her were the words 'Nunz' and 'Adriaina,' and I was told to circle which name belonged to her, even if I did not know her from Adam, I believe I would circle Nunz. From her boots to her socks to her fleshy exposed knees and buttoned dreads, she is Nunz. *sigh. A lot rides on a name. If you don't believe me read Jumpa Lahiri's "Thenamesake" and tell me otherwise.
In short, little Veronica (I dub thee Vany) will have a lot on her shoulders. We all think highly of my late aunt. To me, she was my Africa, my mental image of the Phenomenal Woman described by Maya Angelou. Will Vany wear her name? Or will her name wear her? Naturally I hope for best.