Twins

Here is a thing that is a rarity: a thing Kathleen doesn't know about me. (At least I don't think. Watch me be proven wrong.)

I was supposed to be a twin. I was a honeymoon baby -- totally legitimate, but born less than a year after my parents' marriage -- and, before my mother could know she was pregnant with me, she had the worst period she had ever had in her life. Less than two weeks later, she found out she was pregnant with me. The obvious explanation is that she must have miscarried my twin sibling and, somehow, I survived.

I come back to this, wonderingly, when I feel alone, like someone out there must know something about myself that I don't. I always wonder, what if I had had another? What if I had had that special bond with someone, which I hear about and which always kind of makes me want to cry? I also come back to it when I need to feel strong. After all, even though at times I've not been sure why or for what purpose or for what greater good, I survived.