She said leaving had been her decision.
Staying away had not always been.
She wrote that when Dad turned her away, she believed I had agreed.
That hurt most of all.
She had spent decades thinking her twin sister didn’t want her.
I wrote back.
I told her the truth.
I had never known.
I had never stopped wondering.
I had never stopped loving her.
We began exchanging letters.
Then phone calls.
The first time I heard Laura’s voice after nearly forty years, neither of us spoke for almost a minute.
Finally, she whispered, “You still breathe loudly when you cry.”Family reunion planning
I laughed.
Then cried harder.
“You still say rude things when you’re nervous.”
“That too.”
We didn’t repair forty years in one conversation.
We couldn’t.
There were too many birthdays.
Too many funerals.
Too many children born.
Too many ordinary Tuesdays we should have shared.
