Growing up with a twin brother can only be described as one thing: chaotic. I've been across the world with him and built forts in our living room with him. We've witnessed the same family drama, and we laugh about the same inside jokes. I think the longest I had been apart from him in my life was a week before moving five hours away.
We've shared the same teachers, the same friends, and the same homework for 18 years of life, and then all of a sudden we're hours apart and I'm thinking "Where's my other half?"
As much as I have fought with him (and believe me that is quite a lot), I've always known and trusted that he will be around the corner ready to make fun of me and hug me. He's been the only familiar face at four new schools. He's been the one to give me a hug when I have good news and become jealous when I beat him on a test.
But being apart from him has honestly taught me more than I thought it would. It's taught me that distance truly does make the heart grow fonder. It's shown me that the best things are usually right in front of us and we don't even realize it.
Though things may have changed and now we may be in a different places doing life separately, I'm enjoying the season of FaceTime calls and brief visits. This way I can cheer him on from afar and hear an unbiased opinion about Oxford life--and of course give him unsolicited advice for his life in Hattiesburg.
So here's to you, Peyton. Thank you for making me more mad than I realized I could ever be, but always being there to pick me back up; for keeping me sane and making fun of Mom with me; for driving me to tears more often than not, but for also being only a phone call away.
Thank you for calling me at 11:30 p.m "just to chat" and telling me about your life now. Thank you for being the other half of "the twins" with me for 18 years and never arguing too much when I spout that I'm the better twin.
It's definitely not the same doing life without the one you've grown up attached to, but it's something that's definitely a new lesson worth learning.
