"I can't take this anymore!" I heard my mother scream at my father. I was only four but I knew this time she was serious. We were leaving. My little sister sat in the car beside me, to small to understand the gravity of the situation. "Baby girl!", my father called out to me as my mother swung herself into the Cavalier. I continued to cry to myself, alone in my little world.
"Baby girl!," He cried again, "B.G.Leigh!" He yelled, thats what he always called me. Leigh for my middle name. I cluched my teddy bear. We pulled away from the driveway one last time, tears rolling down my cheeks.

The next day at pre-school was my first. I was to torn up over everything to speak to anyone, even the teachers. Then one little girl ran up to me, "Hi!, " she called, "What's your name?"
"B.G.Leigh" I whispered, and so it was.

So thats how I got my name. That horrible late summer, when I didn't know who I was more angry at-my mother, for forcing us to leave, or my father, for forcing her to go. I forgave both of them a long time ago, but I'll always be B.G.Leigh. Forever.