If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

I don’t want anything named after me. I’m an ordinary person, not chasing grandeur or immortality through plaques or monuments. If, after I’m gone, just one person who knew me well remembers me with gratitude and love, that’s enough. To me, that would mean my life had purpose, that it was worth living.

The idea of having something bear my name feels fleeting, even hollow. We see it all around usroads, colleges, libraries named after public figures, their legacies etched in stone or steel. But how often do future generations truly know them? Statues get painted over, torn down, or forgotten as time shifts values and ideologies. Even the gods of ancient cultures, once revered, fade from memory. If deities can’t hold fans across the ages, what chance do we mortals have?

That’s why I don’t pin my hopes on permanence. Instead, I’d rather leave behind a quiet ripplea memory that lingers in someone’s heart. If, long after I’m gone, one person thinks of me fondly, maybe sheds a tear or smiles at a shared moment, that’s the mark I’d choose. In my dictionary, that’s a life well lived.