When my twins still slept under my heart, I could feel their movements and knew when they touched. At first they would lurch away from one another, strangers in a shared space, but as the weeks went by, they touched and bumped constantly. On the ultrasound, I could see them grabbing hands and touching faces, content with knowing they were together.
After their birth, they spent several days apart, each on a separate but similar journey to survive in this cold and dry world. Then after they stabilized, they were put together again and in a short moment, their hands found one another again. They would sleep with fingers stretched, touching one another's faces. They would reach, and stroke and let their fingers drifted over the other. The foreign feeding tubes and eye shields were often slid off and pulled out by the curious fingers.
As they grew large, we moved them to separate cribs, always in sight of each other, but not in touching distance because they would keep each other awake.
During rest times, they often stretched on the floor together, toes tapping legs, hands touching heads. When separated, they would inquire for one another and voice their frustrations at being alone.
When we started them with "big boy" beds, they each had a mattress on the floor, and invariably, we would find that they had rolled, to the center, to touch once again.
They grew even more, and at school, during nap time, they would often stray towards one another, seeking the comfort of that one they had know before birth.
They changed, they grasped their individuality. They had separate beds, different tastes, different clothes. The sought change, they explored at different levels. They sought each other in moments of difficulty and joy.
And now....they are six, gazing firmly at seven. They have touched briefly with reason, but don't fully grasp it. They stand firm with each other, but on occasion against each other. They cheer each other, they support each other and they compete with one another.
And yet....................and yet, the last several nights, when I steal quietly into their rooms, to stroke their soft faces, to kiss their heads and whisper goodnight................they have once again sought each other out. Sometimes on the top bunk, sometimes snugged in the cave like bottom bunk. Arms, draped over each other, fingers seeking that familiar other, legs sprawled and their breathing matching.............as they did when they were new.
