Like most siblings, my children have their share of squabbles, hurt feelings, and episodes of what I perceive to be I-want-that-toy-right-now-because-he/she-has-it-syndrome.
Yet every single night they fall asleep to the sound of each other’s voices, the monitor fills our hearts one last time before silence sets in. Giggles, squeals and comfort in the dark. Knock-knock jokes that make entirely no sense. Silly songs composed by mama, sung by tender hearts in unison. Companionship upon awakening – they are never alone. And in their shared space they plot grand schemes, bursting through their door, arms linked in solidarity. “Let’s make cupcakes” seems like more of a possibility when your fellow ally is gripping your hand.
I pause to thank my lucky stars for whatever path lead me to this life and to a city where space is sparse, yet love is so so rich cocooned between four walls.