When September comes, it’s time for some folks to start their fall cleaning. I came upon some pictures of my deceased twin this September. She passed some 11 years ago. I miss her dearly. You could say we were joined at the hip.
So many memories came to mind. The first one is when mom and dad went out on a Saturday night and we got into a pomegranate fight. We turned the green rug red. And the night we got our fur-trimmed coats and decided to take a taxi cab to the YMCA so she could sit in the back seat and act like Marilyn Monroe. And how about the times she threw up every day when we started school because they separated us as twins. And how big sister would walk her home because she would puke constantly at High Street School and poor Mr. Bergren would have to come with pails of sawdust and kill the smell.
And how about when brother-in-law Tom taught us to drive and she was always aiming for road kill and she could not parallel park. She would end up taking about 6 pounds of curbing. And when she wanted to drop out of school at 12 years old, so I impersonated her in seventh grade and took her math exam with Mr. St. Onge. No one ever found out about that. (I did confess to her priest at her funeral after I did the eulogy.)
I miss calling her every night to see who ate the most ice cream or how many pounds of Twizzlers we devoured.
In closing, I can only say you fought the good fight, twin. Someday we will be throwing pomegranates in heaven.
Gloria J. Birchell