Sophie is supposed to be all about being smart. Sophie literally means wisdom in Greek. You can’t get more straightforward than that. 

I’m angry that my name means wisdom. I’m not wise. Well, maybe I am— or I was—but when that is all I strived for in my life, I wasn’t happy. I was stressed and depressed. Always having something to worry about. Wise is not supposed to be sad. Sophie shouldn’t mean wanting to bury myself in a hole to get away from all the stress.

I wish Sophie meant adventures. I wish Sophie meant fearless. I wish Sophie meant curiosity. Or love. Or kindness. But Sophie has to mean so insanely smart you don’t even think about anything else. It has to mean working your butt off in school for perfect grades to get into a college where the textbooks are as thick as the fifth book in the Harry Potter series. Then the process starts all over again.

If I could create the meaning of my name, Sophie would be the cool breeze. The bright shining moon over the heads of a sleepy girl and her dog sprawled on the roof of an army green Volkswagen bus.  They’re parked on the rocky bluffs of California’s northern coast. Sophie would mean the waves. Rolling up onto the sand far below them and back into the dark abyss of the ocean at night. Sophie is the silence of the moon while wrapped in a giant blanket.

Sophie is calm, but with its own touch of curiosity and boldness. Alone on the breezy coasts. Sophie creates her own adventures.

Sophie is a golden retriever named Nacho. Sweet and friendly with a side of crazy. Sophie is speeding down the bendy roads of Northern California with the windows open. Blasting music and singing. 

But in the end—Sophie is just whatever I want to make it.

So I’m going to say that wise means all of those things. Wise is kind. Wise is fearless and adventurous. Wise is loving other people. Wise is peacefulness and bliss. Wise is trying your hardest, but not perfect in any way. 

Wise is me. Sophie is me.