So I have him back, the part beyond a static photograph, the part where he's actually made something of his own volition--a grocery list, an identification tag for all those trips he and I planned to take someday. (Now if I could only get his voice back). My daughters have mainly these typed images of me, the ones you see in front of you, not swoops and odd dots and strong "Ts." In this typed text, they have scratches that could be anyone's, not just mine.

Almost everything I write now, I write electronically--email and blog entries and HTML on the computer at work or home, grocery lists in my Palm Pilot, text messages on my phone. I used to be proud of my handwriting, but now when I handwrite anything, I'm usually rushed--writing something down so I don't forget it before I can enter it into my Palm or computer. And also, my eyesight has deteriorated, so unless I got and put on the strong glasses when I write checks or address envelopes--my handwriting is even worse than usual.

But Bob recognizes my handwriting, and I assume other people do, too, and I suppose it doesn't look bad to them. Because whenever I see someone else's handwriting, it mostly doesn't look "good" or "bad," it looks like them.

My mother has very bad eyesight, and writes (prints) using a magnifying glass and a heavy black marker. My father was a draftsman before he retired, and has a beautiful, regular, technical printing style and a lovely cursive. Both of their handwriting styles are completely distinctive.

I'm trying to be less of a packrat lately, and don't keep every scrap of paper that comes my way. But I should be careful to keep a few examples of handwriting from the people that I love so that I can recall the way the letters slant, the pressure of the stroke, the personality that comes through the pen.