Roots

by justine

I love the look of these trees at the end of my block. I see them every day, but I didn’t notice until this week how identical they are, how closely their treetops are knitted in a canopy of green.

Looking at them now, they remind me of my siblings, the three of us so similar and yet, so unique. We are each 2 years apart in school, though my brother and sister are closer at 14 months apart. There’s the running joke with my sister, when she visits, how soon and how many times we’ll be asked if we’re twins. We always answer in unison “No” and giggle. When we’re all together, we’ve been cited as triplets.

I miss them and wish we had more time together now that we’re all our own persons, separate from the roles we play in our family. How easily we slip on those robes when we’re home and how little time we have to visit. My sister now lives in Boston, the city I went to college in. I go weeks without hearing my brother’s voice.

But when we’re all together, our laughter of shared wit (can’t beat 3 with moon in Scorpio) suck us back together, the way gravity keeps us tied to the Earth.

When I think about having children of my own someday, I think one would be enough… but then I feel the ache and pull of knowing what it’s like to have people who are more than friends, people who knew you before you knew yourself. DNA twined, eyes and smiles, mini copies, like leaves. And I think I must give that to my own child.

Coupled roots, independent trunks, free branches. Brothers and sisters.

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