I find it interesting how some people's impact on our lives becomes incorporated into who we are to an extent that, even when they're not standing next to us, they're still right there.

Hunter picked out a volume of Uncle Wiggly stories to read before bed. As I looked at the inscription from my grandmother to my brother, dated 1975, I realized that my brother would have been just a little bit younger than Hunter is now. I decided that I'd write my grandmother a note to let her know that her gift was being appreciated by the next generation. After a split second, I was actually startled to remember that she'd died well over a decade ago.

But it's not just those who have died who reside as part of us. I am blessed with a pair of parents who are not only alive and well, but whom I consider good friends. Yet I was most definitely channeling my father's spirit this afternoon.

As Hunter was goofing around instead of getting into his car seat, I looked down at him with amused exasperation and heard myself say, "Child, what is your predominating maladjustment?"