The power of a name is unexplainable. A name is a term used for identification of an individual. But being given a nickname is another story. It’s a different feeling. A substitute for the proper name of a person. Mine being Ken as well as Kenny. 

Both names I have been called since I can remember. Although, both are used by a variety of different people. Some of my best friends from school as well as my family tend to call me Ken, whereas my closest friends on my dance competition team tend to call me Kenny. Ken comes from my grandfather's uncle, Uncle Ken. Whereas Kenny comes from a shortened version of Kennedy.

My mom and dad have always called me Ken. Whether it be, “Have a good day, Ken!” or “I love you, Ken.” It has always been a sense of warmth and nostalgia. Whenever my mom and dad, or even my best friends say Ken, it always brings me warmth, it takes me back to as early as I can remember in my toddler years. As my brother and I played on the playset in our old backyard with the neighbors, my parents would call our names- of course referencing me as “Ken.” It brings me back to sitting at the dining room table, feeling the warmth of candles atop of the cake, beneath my chin on the table. As I looked around the room my family was in the midst of singing happy birthday, referring to me as Ken. To this day, when I am called Ken, I can still feel that warmth of the bright lighted candles, or the wind blowing on my face as I swung alongside my brother, back and forth on the swing. Ken is not just a nickname, it is a feeling. 

Kenny brings a whole different sense, as well as a different feeling. It feels as if it's a whole different part of me. Kenny is normally the name I tend to hear when I am within the walls of my dance studio. Alongside some of my best friends.