Last night I went to a fundraiser for Common Threads with my wife and parents. My mother is on their board, and helped organize it.
Anyway, as I found my seat at our table I thought to myself: "Oh, mom wrote the seating cards."
Some time during dinner, it dawned on me that without pause I recognized my mother's handwriting.
Perhaps nothing profound to report, but another small reminder of the profound bond between parent and child.