The Signature That Started Talking

The other day I stumbled across several articles about handwriting. Not because I was looking for them. Nope. But I had been noticing something. My handwriting was not at all what it once was. For years I made excuses. I blamed the pen. Or the paper. Or the fact that I was in a hurry.

But if I were to be honest…

It had been changing for a very long time.

Perhaps that is one of the privileges of getting older.

You begin noticing things you would have ignored twenty years ago. The articles I scanned explained that handwriting, especially cursive, is actually a remarkably complex task.

Think of all the movements involved and I am sure you will agree.

Your brain has to remember the letters.

Your eyes guide the movement.

Your fingers make tiny adjustments.

Your wrist, hand, and arm all work together. All in a matter of seconds.

No wonder children spend years learning and perfecting their skills. And based on the complexity, no wonder it changes as we age.

This all got me thinking.

Instead of simply accepting my increasingly “creative” handwriting, I wondered, “What if I practiced?”

Not because I wanted perfect penmanship. Not at all. Because I wanted to pay attention.

Sooooooo. I turned one notebook upside down and gave it a new purpose. Every day I write one page. The same thing. My name over and over again. At first that sounded ridiculously easy. It wasn’t.

“Suzanne” behaves itself and is very reliable.

By the time I get to “Meinhardt,” things begin wandering off.

If I decide to include my maiden name, “Kapica”...

Well…

Let’s just say my hand and brain begin negotiating.

It makes me laugh and it also makes me curious. Every stroke and every line asks my brain to slow down. To notice. To guide rather than rush. To be fully present for something I have done a zillion times.

The interesting part isn’t whether my handwriting improves. It is that I am becoming more aware. Some days my hand feels incredibly steady. Some days I am fully distracted.

Some days I realize I was not paying attention at all.

That little notebook has become less about handwriting and more about awareness.

The articles I read described handwriting practice as good exercise for the brain. But even without that idea, I would keep doing it. Because it reminds me that paying attention is a skill worth practicing.

Perhaps that is true of aging itself. Maybe we do not have to fight every change. Maybe we simply notice it. Smile, and then gently ask, “I wonder what would happen if I practiced?”

One page. One signature. One quiet conversation between my brain and my hand.

And just like that…

Something I had not thought about in years became one more way to stay connected to the remarkable mind that has carried me through 84 years.

Not perfect.

Just paying attention.

And for me,

That’s a pretty good signature.

💚 The Accidental Blogger