“It’s a special sign to identify someone,” Indy says, her hands continuing to move for her dad in the most beautifully elegant way. “That way we don’t need to spell out our entire names every time we speak. Not everyone has a sign name. My dad chooses who gets them and what their sign is.” She balls her hand, but her pinky stays straight up then rubs her hand in a small circle over her heart. “’I’ for Indigo and my dad says I’m his whole heart.” She repeats her sign name. “Indy.”
