Imagine this. You were just born, taking your first breaths, seeing your parents for the first time. The nurse glides over to them in her rolling stool, to ask them what they want to name you.
"Matthew," Your mother tells the nurse, as you cling to her hospital gown. "Matthew Quincy Wische."
The nurse slides back over to her desk, where she fills out a pale yellow form to confirm your birth. The form that will haunt you until your final breath. The nurse gracefully picks up a ballpoint pen, and then in the most elegant of uppercase block letter printing, writes your name.
And she spells it wrong.
This is what I have to live with, Mathew Wische, or as my friends call me, "Mat"
Check out my book, I promise it isn't a waste of time.
- JoinedFebruary 22, 2018