28 June 2011

Love, Respect, and Dexterity

Dear Brother,

It pleases me intensely to see you so strong, so balanced and coordinated. For the moment we have traded roles. I, in my bandaged and partially immobile state can only admire the simple freedoms in you, that not too long ago were not only my right but also my identity. Dexterity is such a difference between us--as all our lives, it has been me that has lead, that has taken charge, that has lifted and maintained most of the burdens, selfishly but also arrogantly. I was always proud of you though and secretly wished for you to be as strong and reliable as me, if you recall moments when I was put aside and you were then placed on the spot--I watched as you held your own for as long as you could. And now, when I look over and see you with this new speed and confidence of motion so familiar and nostalgic to me, it is as if I were being shown footage of myself through a glass mirror. It shall be a while before I fully recover dearest twin, but you have made it that a new dexterity may exist now between us. A combined power and coordination that, when I return to top form, shall give us a wider range of control.

I am eager to escape this cage of a splint, to remove the gauze and bandage. Look at how dirty and dry I've become--at times swollen and darkened with dirt. I can neither lean forward nor back. Between my thumb, index and middle finger is shared the mobility and synergy meant for five fingers--is it any wonder, Brother, that they at times become plump with the strain of attempting to compensate for the two, completely immobilized. Look too, Brother, upon my arm and compare it to yours. The muscle is gone loose and an overall thinness now starves it. Clench a fist and see the difference for yourself. With your thumb and middle finger as a clamp you can observe that on my side, your fingers are closer to meeting than mine on yours, when they attempt to girth the forearm.

You are beautiful and unique even with a twin. Stretch and grip, shake and writhe, all with the beauty of activity. Even typing this I look over to you, resting over the keyboard and finding the letters with such an ease and shy grace, that I am humbled into myself with a numbness that folds me still and silent until I am, for the moment, unfelt---as if I have been cut off and am complete with in you twin.

That is all.

Your ever admiring and loving brother,


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