The Joining

When the wedding march began, I watched anxiously for her to appear. There she was, coming down the aisle, smiling in that way I knew so well, taking solemn steps…toward me. My heart beat wildly. She glanced at me, almost furtively. All day I had been caught up in memories of our times together, how as children we had played, chasing each other through the woods nearby, sneaking from our rooms late at night when our parents thought we were asleep. In school we wrote notes to one another, and I defended her at recess. We had always shared this bond, as if we could understand each other without speaking. From our earliest age, we needed none but each other.

Her eyes shone with tears now as she stopped and waited to be given. I knew what this meant to her, and I think she knew what it meant to me. When we were maybe twelve, before I understood what love was, she made me promise that I would never change, that no matter what happened, I would be there for her. She smiled then as she smiled now, waiting to be given, certain in my promise.

I waited for her to step forward, my heart full of emotion, my head full of the past.

She was so beautiful…

Then she stepped forward and joined her husband. And I, her twin, her brother, stood at her husband’s side, letting go.