My signature is a humble echo of my father’s.
I have always marveled at the artistry of his signature.
When it was my turn to start signing documents, I tried to replicate his. I didn’t know it was illegal, and it helped that I lacked the finesse to capture every twist and turn in his pattern.
When I realized I couldn’t match it, I crafted my own, adding a treble clef—my favorite musical symbol.
Yet, each time I put down my signature, I see his beneath it, like a watermark, a quiet reminder that some artistry from those who came before us is unmatchable.
And that is a good thing.
– Osasu Oviawe