Separated At Birth
What are the odds of meeting your twin sister on WordPress when you were separated from her at birth? From what srotas did her subconscious find me? Who channeled whom?
As it is, we met when she responded to my post, and her curiosity peaked when she saw my email address which contains my birth date, her birth date. So she asked and found: Our birthdates, our birth towns, our birth hospitals–same, same, same. Coincidence?
Once over this mind-blowing then numbing news, there were/are many questions. Conclusively–just one: Who are/is my birth parent(s)?
We’re still getting to know one another: She likes the cold; I like the heat. She’s Jewish; I’m Catholic. She has light hair; I have dark. She likes olives; I like pickles. She can ice skate; I can swim.
That’s what happens when twins have been raised in different environments–she with Dad and I with Mom but both had remarried, the circumstances, the out-of-love, the separation unbeknownst to us. Answers still too fragile to get close to.
But here we are: Pinky Pie (Susan) and Cookie (Teresita), catching up on the sugar and spice and ribbons and lace. Middle-aged women acting like little girls. The little twin girls we were never allowed to be.
©Teresita Abad Doebley All rights reserved 2009-2011.