From the Summer Writing Institute 2002
By Hope Espinda
In Spanish my name is Esperanza. In English it is only four letters. H-O-P-E. It is a dull yellow color that is always waiting and hoping for more. It is the Hawaiian songs my father sings at family gatherings when he is feeling happy, songs like happy tears.
My Grandmother's first name is Ida. My mom's first name is Ida too. "Ida Spida" they would tease her. To this day my mother is afraid of spiders.
At school they sometimes called me hopeless. I never took it seriously, choosing to remain hopeful instead. Hope. Your lips will pucker with the end consonant "puh" sound but it's difficult to say without feeling its positive message. Hope! Hopeful. Hopester. Aunty Hopey. I am always Hope.
Hope Malulani Espinda. I am guaranteed a lifetime of protection thanks to the blessing of my middle name. Malu-under, Lani-heaven. As for Hope, my parents were really hoping for a son. They already had two daughters. Who needs a third? So, in the end, they really had no choice but to name me Hope, to balance out that first second of disappointment.
I was born September 23 on the cusp, making me a Virgo and a Libra. I am the balance that seeks out fairness, who gripes at the first sign of injustice. I was also born in the Chinese year of the Horse, making me strong and independent. I'm not sure if my Granny is a horse woman; however, she was born half-Lee-descended from the Lee clan of Southern China. So she must be inherently strong.
My Granny. I would've liked to have known her when she was young. When she wore that long silky dress that all ticket dancers wore. The make-up and foot tall bouffant-do so carefully arranged atop her head. The day my grandfather met Ida Amoy Lee was the luckiest day. When he came over during the military, he was lucky to fall in love with her. Just like that.
"May I have this dance?" "Sure."
"What's your name?"
"Ida." "What's
yours?"
"Russell."
My Granny. My Granny, she's a strong woman so strong she chose to marry him. Just like that. As the story goes she remained in love with him. I don't know if it was true love, but I guess it was enough. I know she made the best with what she got. She made my mom for one. Or was there more she wanted? More that she wanted to be. I'm not sure. Over her lifetime of eighty years she has earned the respect that everyone gives. She's the first person to be kissed at large family gatherings and the last to be kissed when we leave to go home.
I would love to inherit her place at the family table. She sits at the end with the poi bowl closest to her so she'll never have to reach too far to get a good spoonful. She always gets served first. The best meat and fish eyeballs are saved for her.She dips and twists her spoon in and out of the poi bowl, sucking on the fish eyes with her own eyes closed. Only my Granny could make it look so good.
One day, if I'm lucky, I would like to give my children names that are strong. Names that are positive and full of life. Names that everyone would hear and say and smile. Perhaps Yes! Or Live! Or perhaps another Hope like me. (Inspired by JoAnn's Handout: The House on Mango Street)
