Two Peas In A Pod

This is intended for everyone who has lost touch with someone very special to them. It is intended to show that no matter how long ago you were separated, you will always reunite with them, whether in this life or in the next.




Green. That's what I'm wearing. A green pea suit. Normally, I wouldn't mind this too much. I mean, mommy has made me wear stranger things than a green pea suit, but did she have to put me on the floor too? Woman, I can't move in this thing! How am I supposed to crawl around and stuff everything into my mouth if I can't explore this cool new place you took me to? I can already see three... no four things I want to look at! Okay maybe not look... what I really want to do is taste it and see if it's edible, but that's beside the point!

But seriously mommy, did you have to put me on the ground where I can look at nothing except the sky? And more than that, stuff me in a green pea suit? Haven't you ever heard the expression, "two peas in a pod"? It's kind of cruel to put me in a suit like this, and make me stare up into the sky where I know my twin sister is looking down at me. Sure, she died in your womb and left me all alone, and you probably thought I wouldn't know any better, but I do. I spent my first six months of life cuddled up to her, only to have her leave me just like that. I wonder if you know how that feels.

Granted, once I get a couple more years on me, I'll have forgotten about her completely; in my conscious mind anyways. I'll go on living a happy, fruitful life; one that's fun enough for the both of us. And then I'll die, and I'll see her again. She'll be really pretty, like I know she'll be 'cause she's my sister. And she'll have big white wings, and teach me how to use mine, and together we'll fly all over the world and catch up on old times.

Like two peas in a pod. ('Cause that's what we were.)