When said aloud, my name sounds like two different ones smashed together. Abbey. Gale. Abigail. Neither of which I’m particularly fond of. 

I’m not in love with my name...I wouldn't even say I like it. It's boring. 

But I’m not boring. 

I think of a more elegant time. Victorian times. I think of the old and creaky, extraordinarily beautiful, Victorian houses. The ones with grand staircases on the inside and towering turrets on the outside. I think of the red greens, and rich browns that were painted on the exterior of the houses. 

My older sister used to call me Lady Abigail, like I was some proper Victorian woman. I thought it was weird then, but now I like the way it sounds. It makes me seem important and fancy. 

Abbey Road. The idea for the spelling of my name came from the Beatles album. I guess the fact that my parents used a rock album as inspiration for my name is kind of cool. but I think it would be cooler if I actually listened to the Beatles. 

The name Abigail comes from the Hebrew name Avigail, meaning “my father’s joy”. It’s one of the few things I actually like about my name since I’m such a daddy’s girl. Not to mention, out of me and my two older sisters, I’m definitely his favorite—whether he likes to admit it or not.

Similar to how my name sounds like two names smashed together, I am all of these elements. The Beatles. Victorian homes. A “daddy’s girl”. They can all be smashed together to form a whole. That whole being me. 

Abigail. It’s a name that sounds too elegant for my not so elegant self. A name that sounds important and fancy, even though I’m neither of those things. It is deceptively simple. If you do a little digging you would find it’s quite intricate. I seem quite simple, however, I am intricately complex. So maybe my name does fit me after all. And though I may not like my name, I will always love it, because it’s mine.