I kept my married name after my divorce. I want to show my children I'm never leaving them.

• I changed my last name to my husband's when I got married. 
• While I could've changed my last name after my divorce, I chose not to.
• I want my children to know that while I'm not with their father anymore, I'll be with them always.

Though I haven't been accused of witchcraft (yet!), I especially identify with John Proctor's speech at the end of "The Crucible." When asked to sign his name, admitting guilt, he refuses. "Because it is my name!" he says. "Because I cannot have another in my life." As kids, we loved to emulate Daniel Day-Lewis' dramatic delivery of this iconic line.

Unlike John, I was a maiden. I had one name, and when I legally changed my name to my husband's, I had another. My married last name is Hill, a simple enough addition.

When I divorced 12 years later, people asked if I'd "go back" to my old name. It was peak pre-vaccine pandemic, and it would've been an ordeal. I told them, somewhat humorously, that I'd purchased my domain name and was writing under that byline. I joked that I was lazy.

But I did all kinds of things even though they were a hassle or were made more difficult by the pandemic. I got a divorce without ever meeting my lawyer in person. I moved into a new house. I changed my address with the DMV. I parented two children through a pandemic. I did a lot of work in therapy.

I could have shed the Hill along with the man attached to it. But I liked being a Hill, and I didn't want to stop being a Hill even though I didn't want the husband anymore. I didn't want to "go back." I kept my name because there is no "going back."

It's the same last name my children have

I didn't become a Hill when I got married. I became a Hill when I became a mother. I have two Hill children.

Many people choose to keep their name postdivorce to minimize confusion at school or even to appear as a united front as co-parents. Those are great reasons. Mine are more possessive.

They're my kids whether we share a name or not. But I want them to see, in no uncertain terms, that while their father and I are no longer together, I will never leave them. I want them to grow up and live independent lives, but we'll always be connected.

My mother, on her deathbed, told me, "I'll be with you always." She is. She's with me when I over-research summer camps. She's with me in my smile. She lives on in the grandchildren she never met. One of them has her name.

If I gave up my name, they'd still have my love. So why do I hold on to a four-letter word?

In the play, Proctor says: "You have my soul. Leave me my name." I gave my youth to the Hills. I gave my children to them. They're a part of me and my past. My youngest son left his DNA in my brain for life. I'm a Hill because I was a Hill and because I made a Hill.

I could have never changed my name, or I could've hyphenated it, but I chose — and choose — to be a Hill. I reserve the right to change my mind, but for now my family and I are going to be named Hill.