For Toby Elizabeth

I ordinarily don’t think about her much.

A few recollections punctuating a busy life. The tears of my Dad sometimes on the evenings of June 8, when the humidity and the crickets lend profundity to the darkness. The presence somewhere in our house of a photograph I’ve never seen.

But over the past several months, conversations and happenings in my life have forced a more concerted reflection on a girl I once knew but never met.

When a friend tells me she’s having twins and that one of them is sick, I think about my own mother, 28 and terrified, facing similar news. I didn’t know my mom then, but I can see her courage and trust in the face of my friend.

“Did you know that if you are a twin your chances of having twins increase 20%?” “Really…” I comment, distractedly, before abruptly realizing that this in fact applies to me. Twins?!? Oh, Lord, have mercy. (Please let them be boys.)

Yesterday, one of my students, with beautiful expectation, enthusiasm and wavy auburn hair, tells me her sister is coming to visit for Spring Break. “How old is she?” I inquire. “Same age as me, we’re twins!” “Fraternal or identical?” “Fraternal. She’s taller than me by a few inches. She wants to be a nurse,” she reports with pride and affection. “Oh, wow! That’s wonderful.” And it is.

What would she have been like? Would she have looked like me? Taller perhaps? Shyer? Better at balancing a checkbook and talking to guys? Would she have taught me to be less selfish? To be kinder? Would we have been close? Shared a common life?

I suppose I’ll never know. I hope, dear sister, that you are with our Father even now. By His grace, I’ll be with you both someday.