People ask me all the time about having a twin sister. Are you identical? Are you close? Do you have special powers? (See below for answers.) Truth be told, being a twin is one of the coolest freaks of nature possible, and I can’t imagine life without one.
No, we are fraternal. She does have red hair, a shade much less abrasive than mine, but wears it curly and short, and does not require mascara to look alive. She is also smaller than I am, and she rarely has to adjust her position in a photo shoot to avoid the giant-head dilemma I generally encounter.
Yes, we are close. Despite having lived in Los Angeles for almost twenty years, she is one of my best friends. We share memories of our Nanny burning Jiffy Pop on her gas stove, getting paddled as first-graders for saying “ass,” and surviving a train derailment in the Appalachian Mountains. And though we are on opposite ends of the career spectrum – I teach math and she restores art – we both secretly crave the spotlight and like to re-enact scenes from Mommy Dearest and Breakfast Club.
Sometimes, we do have secret powers, none of which I can divulge at risk of forfeiting them to a higher power. But we did survive a train accident!
So why am I writing about my twin? Well, good reader, she’s been on my mind. She just had her first baby, see, and while I am absolutely thrilled for her, I’m selfishly a little down that the experience hasn’t brought us closer. I thought as soon as she became a mother, we’d finally be able to relate on another level entirely. That she’d be constantly emailing with questions, that she’d be sending hordes of photos, and even, fingers crossed, that she’d call sobbing because she just couldn’t handle another sleepless night with an anti-breastfeeding infant.
But there’s been none of that. I’ve yet to hear any complaining, whining, or hormone-induced hysteria, any “What have we done?” exclamations, not even a “This is really hard.” I haven’t had to talk her off any ledges or recommend a good hemorrhoid crème. Fact is, she doesn’t need me. My ultimate-sister role has been replaced by a beautiful little girl who looks a lot like her mom. Which of course is the way it should be, but I can’t help feeling a little sad, like maybe this is the end of our special bond. Sigh.
Enough already! No more melancholy prose for me. “Wonder twin powers, activate!” I’m just going to let her know I’m here for her in whatever capacity she needs. That’s what twins, in particularly sisters, are really for, right? Peace out.