Last name

Morgan and Me. It was raining.
This afternoon I had my copy of The unexpected everything signed by its author, Morgan Matson. I gave her my card so she won't misspell my name and, after reading it, she said, 'Oh your name is so beautiful'.

Before I could finish my 'Thank you', thinking she found Razel quite cute, she exclaimed, 'Even Estrella (she pronounced it Es-Tre-LA)—that means "star", right?'

No one has told me that before. Razel is quite an ice breaker, but Estrella (except for that time when our Physics teacher asked us on the first day of class, as a way of getting to know each other, the origin of our names) didn't really generate any excitement.

I always tell writer friends that I don't have a writer name. Something sonorous, something resonant. This blog was, for a long period, under the pseudonym Diwata Nakpil (good times). And I've been fantasizing about marrying someone with a last name that would, when attached to my first name, make that sound that a latch makes upon locking the door. That click. That feeling that lets you know, it fits; it's safe.

Embarrassing that, no matter how old and mature you think you are, you still need another person to be your mirror and light. Convinced by her that my name is 'so beautiful', I'll look at my byline with a kinder attitude from hereon.

Morgan Matson. That rolls off the tongue. It has lots of things going for it—alliteration, assonance, consonance. Wonderful writer name. Wonderful girl.

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