Mae by Name, Frass by Spirit…

Daily writing prompt

Where did your name come from?

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Well, that’s a question with more layers than a trifle! I was named after my Granny Frass, go figure! For those who don’t read my blog, she was my maternal grandmother, a pure salt-of-the-earth legend who now resides beyond the veil. And let me tell you, “beyond the veil” doesn’t mean she’s quiet. Not for a second. She still pops in, like some mischievous, invisible house-guest, offering her unsolicited opinions and occasionally rolling her eyes at my life choices. Honestly, she probably thinks I’ve ruined perfectly good genes with my questionable life hacks.

Her given name was Mary, though everyone called her Molly. My name is Mae, which probably comes from Mary… or maybe she just fancied something a little lighter, a little naughtier, a little more fitting for a girl who might grow up stirring trouble, just like Granny Frass did in her own, charmingly chaotic way. One never really knows with family names, especially in the Frass clan. Logic and reason aren’t really our strong suit; heart, mischief, and grit? That’s where we shine. (Granny would remind me here: “And don’t forget common sense! Though apparently you left that somewhere.”)

Being named after her is a kind of honor, a tiny inheritance of character. It’s a badge I wear proudly, though sometimes it feels like a challenge. Because, let’s be honest, living up to Granny Frass isn’t exactly a light task. She could garden circles around anyone, dispense life advice that cut straight to the bone, and still find time to throw in a sharp, sarcastic comment just to keep you humble. (“Mae, honestly, if you chopped the parsley like that, you might as well be feeding it to the chickens!”)

And here’s the best part: I like to imagine she’s still judging me, invisible spectacles perched on her nose, whispering commentary about my choices, my hair, and my general chaos levels. “Mae, what are you doing now?” I hear her saying. “Honestly, you could try harder, but don’t overdo it, love. You’ll break a nail.” And somehow, that feels like love, wrapped up in that signature Frass toughness.

Oh, and let’s be honest, if Granny Frass were here right now, she’d have something to say about the ridiculous cup of tea I just made myself, or the pile of papers threatening to take over my desk, or maybe even my stubborn refusal to go to bed on time. “Mae, honestly! You’re going to spill it, trip over it, or catch a chill. And don’t think I won’t notice the state of your hair! And is that your fourth biscuit today?!” she’d scold, all while smirking like the mischievous legend she was. And somehow, even in the scolding, I feel wrapped in her presence, her humor, and her undeniable wisdom.

So yes, my name is Mae. It’s probably Mary, but let’s face it, Granny Frass was never one to make things simple. Carrying her name feels like having a little bit of her spirit tucked into my back pocket: brave, stubborn, witty, slightly chaotic, and entirely untamed. And if she ever decides to pop in mid-blog? Well, I’ll be ready. With a cuppa, a pen, and a nod to the legend herself… and maybe a biscuit, because let’s face it, she’d probably demand one.

Mae 🧡