My Twin Ester

          June 16, 1996. This was the day my sister and I were born. Even after birth, Ester and I were inseparable. We talked together, ate together, danced together, and smiled together. When we were young, Mama would dress us a like. Ester and I shared a bunk bed in our room. I had the top bunk. When she looked up, I looked down.

        Others recognized our connection. Whenever we walked outside, kids on our block would sing,

“Eva and Ester

Together forever.

Ester and Eva

They're soul sistas!”

Even when we stopped wearing the same exact outfits, many still had trouble telling us a part. If I had a nickle for every time someone accidentally called me Ester, I would probably be a millionaire.

         As identical twins, not only did we look alike, but we had very similar interests. We liked eating pizza, listened to the same music, took piano lessons, and we were both a part of our school's basketball team. The only differences between us was that Ester liked cooking, the color pink, and she wished to be come and veterinarian. Everything I cook burns, I despise anything pink, and I'd much rather be a singer. My life changed forever when she died.

        Ester died in a bus accident on her way to play in a basketball game. I wasn't there because I was sick at home. I even remember feeling shivers and cold sweat on my body while she was on the road. Just like my now broken heart, I was missing my other half.

Everything seems different since Ester passed away. No one sings our song when I walk around our neighborhood. No one mistakes me for Ester anymore, and I miss that. I go to basketball and piano practice without her. Ester was my twin, my best friend, my “soul sista”, and now she's gone.