Angie Kinghorn

The affinity of twinship

The Morse code tapped out in my distended belly was communication, but not necessarily with me. In my lower belly, my son slumbered, and under my ribcage, my daughter, feisty and awake, kicked restlessly. Wake up, she telegraphed.

A blow to my kidney made me gasp and my son answered. No. I’m sleeping. Stop kicking me.

She responded with a series of jabs. I’m ready to be born already. This is boring.

Try sleeping. There’s not enough room in here to even think about being born.

Naturally, my daughter got her way.

Swaddled and in the same crib, they found peace only when they found each other. Their foreheads pressed together as they slept, breathing together, dreaming together, already forming a trinity of him and her and them.

The thread that connects them was there before the beginning. The rest of us were able to see it only at the beginning, and now, I watch as the threads multiply, weaving a pattern on an invisible loom, using an ancient craft that can’t be taught. You can only be blessed enough to watch it happen, and even then, as an outsider, you only catch glimpses of this gossamer mesh that binds, moments that leave you struck dumb with disbelief at the beauty of this relationship. In those moments, I see God through my children, around my children, binding them together with the sticky silk of love.

Babble turned to first words in their own language instead of mine. Deep philosophical conversations, from the sound of it, conducted entirely in twin-speak, and comprehensible only to the speakers and to the one who gave them the gift of speech.

They are each other’s security blankets, covering all manner of hurts and needs. A mother’s hug might soothe a hurt, but only the presence of the other half can make things whole.

My twins are two people, distinct in every way possible. One boy, one girl. One light, one dark. Photo negatives of each other in thought and in action. Where one has shadow, the other rushes to fill the space with light.

Two people. Separate people. But unmistakably part of one whole, a beautiful interweaving of lives and space and thoughts and touch that I will never fully understand, even as their mother. The threads that tie them aren’t restraints; they’re a web of love and language and unspoken thoughts. If one needs the other, they snap back; a rubber band released. I watch, and I marvel, but I see through a haze, knowing the details will never be clear for anyone but the two of them.

 

 

 

This was written for the online writers’ workshop Write on Edge. This week’s prompt asked us to use the words “gossamer” and “affinity” as inspiration for a 500 word piece.

 

Comments

    • Thank you! I was going to go for fiction this week, but this called to me as I continue to marvel each day at their relationship.

      I will never fully understand it or be part of it. This doesn’t make me jealous; it makes me stand in awe of what God has created between these two.

    • Thank you, Guerrina. They touch my heart every day.

      And then sometimes they make me want to wring their necks, don’t get me wrong. But I love the bond between them, even when it involves plotting against me. :)

  4. The bond is amazing, isn’t it? Mine are 3 now, and even when they are watching TV they have to be touching each other in some way. One is shy, one outgoing. One is the leader. I love watching them ,and I hope they never lose that connection.

    • It really is. Mine are 6, and I was noticing last night at dinner that they were eating with their feet on each other’s chairs. Just a “hey, I’m here” kind of thing.

      I’m with you on praying they never lose that connection.

  5. Oh, I absolutely love these lines: The threads that tie them aren’t restraints; they’re a web of love and language and unspoken thoughts. If one needs the other, they snap back; a rubber band released. I watch, and I marvel, but I see through a haze, knowing the details will never be clear for anyone but the two of them.

    I’ve had some much fun with mine and marvel each day at their closeness and special bond. Thanks for sharing!!!

  7. I am in awe of this and of what you get to watch unfold. This:

    In those moments, I see God through my children, around my children, binding them together with the sticky silk of love.

    I don’t have twins, but I knew the moment I met my daughter that I would never doubt the existence of God again.

  8. This is a beautiful testament to something unique — a joining of souls. In your writing, which flows with grace and ease, you describe twin-ness in a way that makes me “see” the unique kinship of your daughter and son. Any child is a gift from Gog, but your gift is two-fold:~)

  9. Definitely very evocative. When you said the communication that was going on couldn’t be taught, I noticed I’ve been reflecting on that sentiment as well recently — that crafting the psyche of a human being is something no individual person can hope to do, just as no human could ever have come up with the design for the human body from scratch, and yet there it inexplicably and amazingly is.