Yesterday was my sisters' birthday. Yes, that is plural. I have two sisters. They are four years younger than I am and they are identical mirror twins. What that means is they came from the same cell, they have the same DNA, but one is right-handed and the other is left-handed. Like when you look in the mirror -- if you raise your right hand, the image raises its left. Of course, I never thought they were identical. My mother and I were apparently the only ones who could tell them apart. We had three older brothers who referred to both of them as "The Twins" or just "Twin" until the twins were about ten years old and had completely separate personalities making identification an easier task.
Yesterday they were 58 years old. However, in my mind's eye they are only eight years old. I'm not sure why they stopped aging at eight, but my guess would be because that was a year of major changes in our lives. Our family moved from southern Florida to New Jersey (talk about culture shock). We also acquired a stepfather that year. I suppose I stopped them from aging at that point in an attempt to hold on to some misplaced memories of innocence. I, on the other hand, didn't stop aging in my head until I reached the age of 30, which was another traumatic year for our family. If you can perform simple addition, you have determined that I am actually 62 (and believe me my body knows how old I am) but in my mind I am still 30.
When we were younger (teens and twenties), strangers sometimes thought we were triplets. They are naturally blonde and I am a redhead, but I used to dye my hair blonde before all the blonde jokes became part of our culture. We were all the same size (itsy bitsy, teeny weeny), and often wore each other's clothing. There is a very strong family resemblance, and since most everyone already knew they were twins, it just seemed natural to include me in the grouping. Now they are still blonde (but not quite as naturally) and I have embraced my redheadedness (again not quite all natural, damn those grays). They are still thin, though no longer skinny. I, unfortunately, am larger. Sir Peter Paul Ruben and my husband are fans of my body shape, but I'm afraid not even I can appreciate this form. We definitely don't share clothing any longer.
I love my sisters. I know it is easy enough to say you love your family, but I'm not so sure that is always true. In this case it is the absolute truth. My sisters are amazing women, and I would be proud to know them even if we weren't related. I know they share a bond between themselves that only another twin would understand, but we three have always been close emotionally no matter how much geography there is between us. Currently I live in North Carolina, Cathy lives in Georgia and Cindy lives in Colorado (my mother had a thing with "C" names, at least for the girls). I think it would be wonderful if we all lived in the same town, or maybe the same state, or even the same time zone, but it isn't gonna happen at this point in our lives. Still, I have visions of three old wrinkly women in rockers sitting on the front porch on a Sunday afternoon, bickering about something that has no significance and probably no solution. My life would have been emptier by far without sisters.
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