I have news, y’all. My name change? Officially official.

The week I left for Germany, I received a letter from my grandaddy. Mom had told him about my name change and he wanted to let me know how delighted he was that I was leaving behind the bad memories and moving forward with our centuries-old, honorable family name. I woke up in the middle of the night, holding his letter in my hand. And then, two weeks ago, I clutched his letter tightly in my left hand as I raised my right hand, stood before a judge, and categorically and unequivocally separated myself from the father who chose to miss out on knowing me.
Twenty minutes later, Alida Moore walked out of the King County Courthouse and into the sunshine.
(And then, you know, updated my Facebook.)
I just wanted to share my lovefulness with y’all. Changing my name has been more than symbolic. I feel lighter. Shedding extremely heavy emotional baggage will do that to you. It feels amazing. I get a thrill every time I see my new name in print; I’ve been practicing my new signature on every scrap piece of paper I can find. And I’m carrying my new name with the confidence and kindness required of a Moore.
We’re thoroughbreds, you see.
(Finishing the Germany series this week; stay tuned!)
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