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Words were flying out of her mouth before she realized her lips were moving, “Brian, Cody, get your behinds off that couch. That is used to sit or lay on, not to jump up and down.” The twins froze, caught bent over and were just about to leap again. There jumping up and down had been cautioned. Smirks bent their mouths and they remained frozen in mischief, waiting to see if either their mother was joking or if they would be able to become invisible, only to resume the fun unseen. “Now.” Brian and Cody turned to each other.
They were nose to nose, which they may remain for the entire lives, as twins sometimes did. An outburst of chuckling was suddenly followed by the twins throwing their bodies violently away from each other, as if testing fate. Their backs landed on the couch’s tan cushions and Brian and Cody then rolled off and onto the floor, deep red hair bouncing wildly the whole trip down. They landed feet to feet, as if they were merely the two ends, the two heads of one large, fun loving creature. Lela couldn’t help but to smile at her rebellious children.
“They were born to be a pain in the ass,” her husband often said. But what kids weren’t born to be a pain in some region of the body. That was what childhood was, pain, for the parents and for the children themselves when they were forced to leave the innocence behind, only to enter adulthood and then old age and then death, hopefully not before they were able to have kids themselves. And so on. And so on. A buzzer began ringing behind Lela, calling her attention back to her kitchen. Walking to the stove, she began to hum an original melody as she pushed the.
Fictional stories "Dreaming of Horses" and "A Knot in the Wood" It made their deep red manes look thicker, fuller, filled with the power of the early morning hours. She knew that she could climb up on the fence and watch the twins play all day. The hours would roll by and Hannah would only notice their movement through how much light reflected from the horses’ coats. She fondly remembered when the twins were born. “Born to be a menace,” her Pa often joked. “Born running,” her mother would then add.
They were both right…a little. It seemed that once their feet could hold their weight, the twins were running and jumping through the field, over and across every single acre the fence line marked. Hannah giggled in delight. The light laugh that escaped her youthful lips almost made her blush. It has been years since she felt so vibrant, so sturdy upon her legs. She felt…as young as a mare. Hannah laughed again. She wanted to stare at them all day. She would like nothing more than to do so.
Uncharacteristically, my father was nervous around me. He stared into his espresso rather than my face. It was the first time he’d visited me in New York and we hadn’t been alone in a room since last year when he helped me pack for grad school. I shivered as I remembered how he had paused before folding each article of clothing, the grimace he wore whenever he tucked something into my suitcase. Since he arrived yesterday, he spent the majority of time alone in his hotel and, like a doomed blind date, preferred to meet in public.
We sat in an old café in the West Village, an easy walk from NYU.
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