It isn’t easy

being a twin.

 

Others considered us

as one two-part person, 

while our parents saw, 

in our conspiring,

four or more.

 

Born of one egg,

we yearned to be neither

a one nor a four so we fought

them and each other

to each be ourselves.

 

Even many years later as we began

the trip south to be with our father

we argued about which route to take, 

where and when to break,

resigned to bicker all the way.

 

Pop, shriveled to half his former self

yet with unaltered mind,

alert, interested, uncomplaining.

We twins forgot our petty dueling

to measure lifelong memories in one last week with him.

 

At week’s end, he painfully pulled himself up

to wave a final goodbye from the door.

In the car, my brother, annoyed somehow,

started it up again.

 

I looked at my father

as if to say, “here we go again.”

Stooped, bright eyed

his knowing smile replied,

“it isn’t easy

being a twin.”

 

tony rounds   Oct. 2009