A story about my name

#writing/creative
parents:: short story writing class

When I think of my name, the first scenes that come to mind are...every time I’ve shown up to a doctor’s office. Where, whenever I say my name, I already have August on the tip of my tongue, ready for the inevitable clack, click, scroll, scroll… scroll. “And what’s your date of birth?”

When we’re kids, at least through elementary school, maybe some of middle school, we get used to believing in our uniqueness. In that class of 14, I really am the only Daniel (let alone Daniel Lee). I am the only one whose parents both immigrated from Beijing, whose Grandparents live in the house, who wants to be a moon geologist some day. But walking out into the “world” (i.e. onto that college campus) for the first time, I probably met 20 Daniels on the first day alone…

Maybe because of that, I’ve had this desire to be different. Not just any Daniel. But: Daniel Lee, October 7, 2000 (birthday randomized for anonymity).