We will bear a child and name her “Crossly”, after debating the merits of “Crossely”, finally siding to eradicate unnecessary information.

 

It follows that names need sound familiar, yet novel. 

 

“It sits in your mouth, like a freshly plucked blackberry in an August rain.” 

 

“I agree.”

 

On my side, the tinge of Northern English will accentuate the vowels, allowing the jowls to sink. Craw-slee, they will say. Of course, for the setting-suns on either side, it will be the miracle, the ultimate sacrifice that will ring through. Cross. Lee - an afterthought. They will cherish her deeply, a demonym for stability. Eventually, they will rest deeply. We all will. 

 

In the stroller at the park, others will say: “Crossly, why that is such a pretty name.” We will squeeze one another, either on waist or on shoulder, whichever be closest. Then look at each other and mutter, “We know.” All the while thinking to ourselves, “Should we have kept the 'e'?”

  

R. Thomas