Apparently my name means 'pure', but that's not what I think of. Calm and elegant are more accurate. A woman sitting down to breakfast. 'Pure' sounds so saintly and clean. But I think there are Katherine's with fire.
My name changes feeling with changes of speakers. Some make my name flow, utilizing all three syllables, building me up to be more refined than I am. But most-failing to notice the middle, the peanut butter- make it sound flat and metallic. Why the 'er' is so easily neglected I'll never know.
Lying on the table in the operatine room, my name waits to be cut up, rearranged, shortened. Katie, Kate, Kathy, Kat Katrina. Endless abbreviations. Versatile. Thank god I have a K instead of a C. The C brings an elderly, ugly feel. Beauty is lost along with the three slashes.
I was not named after anyone. My parents simply liked the name. No great aunt or godmother sharing the nine letters with me, trying to squeeze in. There would be no room.
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