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Just amber

Everyone knows of the gemstone created by fossilised tree sap,

like from the Jurassic Park film or their grandparents’ jewellery,

Everyone knows of the honey-yellow colour between red and green on a set of traffic lights.

But does that mean everyone knows me?

Because that’s me.

My name is a gem,

My name is a colour.

But my name is also common.

I’m Amber.

I’m told Amber means ‘The Amber or Mystical’ by my key ring,

It’s Arabic . . . but I am not.

I’m told Amber means ‘Happiness’ by the internet,

But I’m not always happy.

I’m told Amber means ‘Ambergris’ the gemstone made from fossilised tree sap,

I’m not old, certainly not a fossil.

But my name is still Amber.

It was not given to me with a deep intent

Nor was it handed down as a reminder of an ancestor,

It was just one word that fit the other two.

The other two words that make up who I am,

The other two words that define my life,

The other two words that knew me since before I knew myself . . .

And Amber.

Each Amber stone is unique,

Each Amber person is unique,

But all Amber stones are called Amber,

And all of us with that name are called Amber.

I am unique,

But at the same time I am not.

I’m just Amber.

A part of a crowd.

A million year old piece of sap.

A colour everyone calls orange.