My grandma passed away before she could be the one to pass her stories down to me.

Instead, I received her name; a homophone. Sitting pretty between my first and last name.

The meaning of the name is fair or pure.

The word—win—was spoken well before either of us. But she presented it with a new meaning. She allowed the pride with which she wore it to replace its simple definition. She transformed it to also represent an incredibly complex and powerful woman.

I like this definition as well.

(I struggle with how to embody a woman and her definition because I have only met her through tales and one-fourth of my DNA)

The first person to call me Wynne was my father. It didn’t feel like a misnomer.

But I was overcome by years of uncovered stories.