My name should be Heidi.

It isn’t, but it was once. For 12 days, I suppose.  I remember my Aunty remarking that she had a hard time thinking of me as anything but that.

I didn’t think much of it at the time … what a callow youth I was … but I suppose my mother thought of me as Heidi too, until we met.

I should ask her, but we don’t have that kind of relationship. That is all my doing. Fear, mostly … walls built of hidden fears that I had no intention of breaching, because I was (am?) ALL about self-presevation.

I wonder who I could have been?

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