What’s it like to be a twin? Most people can never know. I do.
I was lucky enough to be born with a twin sister, Lindsay. We were born a minute apart, she first and I second. We constantly bicker over little things like who gets to sit in the front seat of the car or who has to load the dishwasher, but there’s also a weird connection between us that I can’t really imagine having with anyone else. We’re both on the track team and run different legs of the same relay. After a race, the coach gives us our personal splits and our times are the same, down to the tenth of a second. It’s a family joke that Lindsay always knows what I want for dinner, and although I never tell her, she always manages to guess correctly.
We balance each other out. On a Carvel ice cream cake, I love the vanilla and she loves the chocolate. We almost always split it-top and bottom. When we eat French fries, I eat the mushy ones and Lindsay eats the crunchy ones. I like the feeling of having someone else there that is able to fill in the gaps of my personality. While she’s loud and outgoing, I am shy and reserved.
At my sectional field hockey game, the referee told Lindsay to back off the line because she was standing too close to the field, yelling at me for support. This unending support goes both ways. During field hockey season, I would try and watch her soccer games from my practice. Although I could barely see the field, I’d run up the hill during water breaks to get a glimpse of the scoreboard and see how the game was going.
She’s also completely honest with me and while I could take some of her comments offensively, I know she’s just trying to help me. The other day, I walked out of my room seemingly dressed for school. When Lindsay saw me she said, “What in the world are you wearing?” yet instead of merely criticizing me, she offered one of her shirts that matched my outfit perfectly. I got a few compliments that day, and in response to each one I said, “Thanks, it’s Lindsay’s shirt.” I do the same for her. I can’t even count the number of times Lindsay has called “Moog,” my family nickname, across the hallway to ask me to check the back of her newly straightened hair for curly pieces.
Whether it’s finishing each others food or cheering at a game, I love being a twin. The weird connection, honesty and balance between us make being a twin invaluable. It’s important to have a person in my life that meets all of these requirements and is truly my counterpart. I believe this bond helps shape my life. It gives me confidence to be myself because I know she will always be there.
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