By Vicki Bahr 
The twins are the youngest of our nine grandchildren, our baby’s babies, and they’ve been inseparable from the very beginning.
If they were being held, each of them reached for the other; in their cribs, they scooted over to the very edge of their mattresses and held hands between the bars. As toddlers, one invariably climbed out of his bed each night and they ended up together… their very favorite place to be.
In their double stroller, Ellis and Brady learned to eat snacks or hold their sippy cups with one hand, so their free hands could always be linked, and when they got older and we took walks together, both would invariably be on one side of me so they were constantly alongside each other.
They were Covid babies, which undoubtedly deepened their twin connection. They took endless walks in their stroller with their mom through the neighborhood just to get some fresh air and a fresh perspective on life, waving at neighbors from across the street or on front porches, admiring chalk drawings someone had left on the sidewalk, and listening for the church bells in the neighborhood.
Their big brother called them “his beautiful babies,” and they grinned.
Parent/teacher visits were via Zoom calls, and when it was determined they needed a bit of encouragement with their speech, the twins made animal noises together, looking up to Mommy, Daddy, and Big Brother and grinning their toothy smiles as they pointed to the picture book spread across their laps.
Even when Covid worries were over, the twins were inseparable, talking nonstop, riding their bicycles, and traveling side-by-side in grocery carts.
When it came time to register them for separate kindergartens last winter, I knew exactly what was going through our daughter Becca’s mind, and the hesitancy she felt about letting the babies go. It was what I felt so many years ago as I watched her walk through the giant school doors, then drove home sobbing. But this wasn’t just one baby she would be waving goodbye to; it was two.
The world is waiting, and her baby boys will never be totally hers—or each other’s—again. There will be new influences, new books to read and letters to trace, new LEGO creations to build, and Hot Wheels to race. Alone.
But oh, the kindergarten recesses and lunchtimes together, the walks to and from school together, bath times and bedtime-story times, and sitting side-by-side on the couch times watching Bluey together. And when the sun has gone down, and they crawl into bed, there will be so many whispers as they go over their day’s adventures, hands held together across the space between their beds.
Because, deep down at the very heart of it all, they are twins, and they don’t know any more perfect way to love each other… or the world.
by Caitlin Q. Bailey O'Neill 
by Ellie Hunja 
by Jamie Duhn 
