It means “Star of the sea.” A bright shining light gleaming on the water. Dancing as the waves fold and crash against the boat that carried my family from a small country off the coast of Europe. 

Mariella. Sweet like the smell of soft rain falling on the red tulips that my Oma and Opa ran through as young kids in love. It is a dutch name. A name that comes from the cobblestone streets of the Netherlands. The fields of tulips. The bike rides to relatives' houses and neighbors who you call “tante” and “oom”.  It’s kind and trusting. 

Although it’s dutch, I was not named after anyone. My name was most likely picked out of a dutch baby name book, along with my brother, Tijs, and my twin, Marijke. They’re all unique names. Each with their own personality. 

Tijs (T-ice) and Marijke (Mar-eye-ka) are mysterious names, confusing everyone that encounters them. Tijs tastes salty, like ocean waves crashing against the pier. Marijke looks like a freshly cut lawn with early morning birds singing in a tree. However, Mariella smells like perfume or a bouquet of freshly picked flowers. Mariella has a royal physique. It is proper and soft. It is not playful but rather keen. 

Mariella represents an elegant figure who's passive and tolerant.  I, however, don’t see myself as a soft, fragile person. My name is not honest. It’s a beautiful deception. My name makes me seem soft and elegant, but I tower over others, my feet planted like a lighthouse in the angry sea. Even my middle name plays along with the facade. Grace, meaning: simple elegance or refinement of movement. 

I prefer my nickname “Ella”. It’s tough and strong. It still comes off as lighthearted but has a strict sound. It is straightforward and doesn’t waste any time. Ella is not the fields of tulips. Ella is the dirt and grit that Mariella lays its roots in. Ella is not the star shining from the sky, exposing the wondrous ocean. It is the lighthouse guiding the boat that carried my family from a small country off the coast of Europe. 

Ella. Yes. That fits better.