The Twins

By some strange coincidence, or miracle of fertility drugs, during elementary school there were three sets of twins in my grade: Judy and Jean, Marg and Liz, and lastly, Ashling and Angela. All girls, all fraternal twins. The final pair arrived in the fourth grade but I had been waiting for them a long time.

Ashling and Angela and I first met when we were five years ago and took dance lessons in the same church basement. A framed picture of the three of us performing 'Muskrat Love" in matching rodent costumes stands in a place of pride in their parent's living room. We all look really freaking cute and basically the same as we do now (except for the ears and bushy tails).

Sadly, after our historic performance our dance teacher moved away and no one stepped up to fill the dancing void to the little Catholic girls of Brookline. So I didn't see them again for a very long time. But though I was young, I always remembered my dancing partners, partly because they're twins and partly because Ashling's name has an "ing" on it. So whenever new kids would transfer to my school I would hope it was them. And then one year it was.

We've stayed friends through all the tumultous years and created the pleasurable ritual of spending Christmas together. First, they come over to my mom's x-mas brunch and hang with my loud crazy fam. Then, I journey to Quincy to their folks place, where I enjoy the finest Irish cooking, lovingly prepared by their father, and am no longer mocked for bringing Tofurkey with me. We end the evening by escaping to the movies and it's really the best Christmas has to offer a girl in Boston.

Yesterday, the twins turned 30 and Heath Ledger died. Coincidence? I think so, but one things for certain: we're old as bollix now.