There’s s a little chaos that happens when Erics meet. I’m sure each name has it’s own idiosyncrasies; us Eric’s most prominent is the C or K or even the freakish C-K that can (doesn’t mean you should, C-Ks) end our first name.
There may one day be a Hana cringing at this spelling of Hannah, and I’m sorry. For fairness: sup… Ericks….
I’ve met Erics and Ericas of all races and ages. I don’t know if our parents or unoriginal or trailblazers, but the google result sounds really cool and invokes the word “ruler,” so it’s possibly just a pretty easy catch-all to land on…
It’s familiar to meeting someone from the same state or hometown — knowing that home team, the response to the call, the bend in the interstate that 99% of travelers speeding by never look twice at.
Sometimes it’s the jolt of of a name you used to say. An ex lover, friend, lost one or villain suddenly casting their implications in your day-to-day. Trying not hold it against them, or to let grief let you preemptively lower your defenses.
I enjoy the shared kinship of the sorta coincidence of meeting someone with the same name or birthday. Even though some names, like mine, are common, it creates a connection. It’s a loose bond that helps a smile, an ease that feels like the open door of friendship.
It makes me wonder: to whom, for just a name, am I not saying a simple “nice to meet you”?
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What’s the deal with your name?
