Signature

Just as a chef has a dish he calls his own, or as a writer is known for a theme so should every person have a signature.

I don't mean the untranslatable scrawl across the bottom of the HIPA page at your doctor's office.

I mean the one thing that, when anyone who knows you sees it, that YOU will instantly pop into their heads. It might be as subliminal as a fragrance, or as bold as a cayenne color you are known to wear, a phrase that you've coined, the way you smile.

It doesn't have to be obvious, just omnipresent. Every time this crosses my path, I think of you, like a song that refreshes old memories.

My hands....at 61 they aren't as smooth as they were at thirty. They are, however, rather pretty. Sue, my friend and nail techie, helps to keep them beautiful. No more hangnails, no more chips. Moderately long, glossy, unflawed nails with one--only one--sparkly design on my ring finger. I like it. An indulgence I can live with. A signature.

The jewelry I choose, sometimes outlandish...my friends can spot a piece in a store and instantly think of it as something I would wear. My hair, short, platinum, sometimes windblown on a calm day...a signature. My favorite beverage from the bar, a gin and tonic (lime, please), or when I feel like having something healthy it will be gin and juice. Once in awhile, a Lambrusco. Rarely deviating from the tradition, it's become a signature.

My friends have signatures of which they are not even aware. One has smoky eyes, another a laugh, another a rolling of the eyes. There is one with an attitude of grace,  one who cooks with a flair, one who can always make me smile. Signatures.

The signature, so I have found, is what draws people into a circle of friendship.  It makes you appear to be everywhere even when you aren't around.  You become a part of someone's life without even trying.

Ah, I wish I had understood the power of a signature a long time ago.