Your reasoning is excellent, it’s only your basic assumptions that are wrong. Ashleigh Brilliant
There was the constant impression that a small piece of me was missing but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it – like years after one has lost someone, where their memory lingers but the details have faded into the mists of time – almost there but not quite tangible. There were also the times I’d find myself picking out red items of clothing (even though blue is more my colour), dancing like a lunatic in the kitchen, or drawn to watch The Muppets for no apparent reason. It all had me questioning my sanity, to be honest.
And then, in June, I arrived here in Canuckistan, where everything became clear: I met my twin. Yes, you read that right. My twin. Sister. The one who loves the colour red, and dancing (in the kitchen) and, you guessed it, The Muppets.
After all these years I could lay the distressing doubts to rest – it seems I wasn’t a lunatic after all.
Now, at this point my parents (both of whom read this blog) are probably shrieking, “Say whaaaaaat?” My mother will be explaining passionately to her dogs about how she gave birth to me 44 years ago, and that there was definitely only one of me. My brother will be laughing and shaking his head at the fact that his little brother has finally gone berserk, and my journalist-sister will be cackling hysterically while dialling my number to get all the details. My father? He has probably had a nervous breakdown, stroke and heart attack at the news. (Perhaps someone should drive over to his house to see if he’s still in one piece.)
But I’m sure you, my readers, are all rapt, sitting on the edge of your seats, waiting to hear the details. I will try to be as concise and detailed as possible.
Simply, there’s a family in church with two daughters, the younger of whom, it turns out, shares a birthday – November 27th – with me. And as we became closer we started noticing ridiculous similarities in our lives and behaviour, like that both of us enjoy chicken, plain chips and smarties (but then, who doesn’t?) and that we share a love of drama – she having taken many a male role in school productions, while I took female roles (having attended an all-boys’ school.) It also turns out that both of us acted as Potiphar’s Wife in the musical Joseph – she, a much more attractive version than I!
We are both a bit kooky, in an off-the-wall kind of way. Neither of us is particularly fond of hugging but I was taught how, and plan on teaching her. We also both struggle with allergies and had lung function tests within a week of each other (this past week, to be exact). She’s beautiful and I am dashingly-handsome (or so her great-grandmother told me recently). As tough as she is, I still win the arm-wrestling and real wrestling. She far surpasses me when it comes to tact and patience …
I was born in ’69, she in ’96. (Yes, yes, there you have it, we aren’t actual twins! Pffffffff. Everyone can relax now.)
This is how the story really developed: At one stage a friend in the church mentioned how it seemed as if my “twin’s” family had adopted me – I was spending so much time with them. My twin’s immediate reaction: “We must be sisters! Twin sisters!”
I now call her twin, she refers to me as sister. She’s strange like that.
But before I give away too many personal details about us, let me end.
Tomorrow (or today, depending on where in the world you are) we will be celebrating our birthdays together. Happy birthday, twin. I don’t know if I will still be around next year to celebrate with you then, so this year I plan on making it as memorable as possible. There may be some gifts coming your way. I can guarantee there will be some sloppy kisses and hugs too. It’s the least I can do.
PS. This is my 100th blog post here. Happy blogging birthday to me too …