As much as I've agonized over the impending loss of my family name, I had a eureka! moment while tossing and turning last night. It's so trivial, but somehow it made changing my initials seem slightly less heartbreaking. Slightly.

So BK and I spent the majority of our Sunday shopping. I was going over my purchases in my head when, rather suddenly, in popped an image of the monogram-style Michael Kors wallet I'd considered buying but left behind for a solid, leather Kenneth Cole.

Melissa Kukulka, I thought. Funny, I didn't see that in the store. Obviously because I don't think of myself as MK yet.

While I've never been big on fashion accessories soaked in designers' monograms (I'd much sooner choose an item in solid colors), at least when I buy one of my favorites in the near future, the hanging logo charm on my handbag will be my initials.

Silly, I know.

It will probably take a while before I totally remember to stop saying or writing Melissa Brooks. Kinda like when you've just had a birthday and tell someone that you're 26, forgetting you're actually 27. Or in the beginning of a new year you can't stop dating documents with the previous year. But now I know it'll be OK to get mixed up. Because I can just look in the mirror at the logo on the side of my sunglasses.