Susan Age 7Donna, Age 7I entered the world along with my identical twin sister many years ago, not saying how many. We were a shock to our parents since they weren’t planning on two babies at once. As a small child, I always thought it was weird how people would have Donna and I stand side by side and then try to tell us apart. To be honest, I thought they were nuts. Of course, we were different because she was a little taller, with a fuller face, and had a deeper dimple. What was wrong with people?

Over the years, I started to believe we were more alike than different. We had oodles of things in common; therefore, we did many things together. I’d have to say that Donna was not only a very close sister but a best friend also.

In the last year, I have discovered that we are not as much alike as I’ve always thought. Last June, Donna came to live with my husband and I until she could find a house to purchase in Charleston, South Carolina, where her two children now reside. Once she moved in, we made an agreement where she would help out with the housecleaning, and I would do all of the cooking. That’s where the trouble began. She called me the Food Nazi because I would not allow processed or junk food in my kitchen. I eat mostly fresh fruits and vegetables, organic chicken, and domestic seafood. About once a week, Donna would make a food run to the nearest grocery store to buy a supply of snacks. I’d open the pantry or refrigerator to find food items had magically appeared. I always thought her alcoholic beverage of choice was white wine, like me, but then I discovered a supply of Coors Light.
In addition to the title of Food Nazis, she soon learned that I was also a “garbage cop,” pulling things out that she had thrown away so that I could recycle or put in the compost container. It took her awhile to learn what she could and what she could not throw away.
Everyone has their own routine to house clean and wash dishes, right? My “tools” for each task were replaced with her stuff. She uses a scrub brush instead of a scrub pad to wash dishes. She substituted my old fashion mop and bucket with a Swiffer Wet Jet. Ugh!

And as far as entertainment goes, I thought we liked the same music. Wrong! She said if she heard one more Kenny Chesney song, she’d scream. I countered that by saying, “You’re still listening to golden oldies?”

The whole time she lived with us, I only remember one fight. It started in the kitchen. I’ll spare you the details, but I’ll tell you how my husband, Ron, got caught in the middle. When he came home from work, I said to him, “Donna messed up lunch.” When he walked into the den, she said to him, “Susan was mean to me.” Poor guy. Of course, we laughed about it later, and all was forgiven.

I enjoyed our year together. We had so many laughs and fun together. Last week, Ron and I drove down to Charleston to see her new home. We hadn’t seen each other in over a month, so we were happy to be back together. I look forward to more trips down, her visits to my home, and our text messages, emails, and phone calls.

You might get a kick out of this. Our text messages are so brief, it’s comical. Below are two actual text transactions that we sent each other while watching TV:
Belmont Stakes when California Chrome lost: Me: Crap! Donna: I know!, and Championship Game of World Cup Soccer: Donna: Goal! Me: Finally! Donna: I know!

I can’t wait until we can text about a NFL game we’ll be watching, miles apart from each other. It should be interesting. Come to think of it, the brevity of our messaging may be because we are actually very much alike and can read each other’s minds. I never thought about that until just now! We do sometimes finish each other’s sentences. Wow! A revelation— maybe we’re not so different after all.

Feel free to share this blog with a twin you know. I’m sure they can relate.



About Susan MIlls Wilson

Susan Mills Wilson is a native of North Carolina where she writes romantic suspense. She is the leader of the Charlotte Writers Club Mystery Critique Group and a member of Charlotte Writers Club. Subscribe to Susan’s blog at
This entry was posted in The Comedy of Life and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.