The pain did not disappear. It merely became something I learned to carry.
Then one morning, while standing in Ava and Lily’s old bedroom, I told Daniel I could no longer live in that house.
“I see her everywhere,” I said. “I can’t heal here.”
Daniel looked around the room.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he nodded.
“Maybe we all need a new beginning.”
We sold the house and moved nearly a thousand miles away to a quiet town called Cedar Falls.
The move was difficult, but for the first time in years, I felt a small sense of hope.
Lily was about to begin first grade.
Perhaps this new city could become a place where she was not known as the girl who had lost her twin.
Perhaps I could learn to smile without feeling guilty.
I had no idea that moving to Cedar Falls would lead us back to the child we had buried.
For illustrative purposes only
The First Day of School
On Lily’s first morning at Cedar Falls Elementary, she stood in front of the mirror while I brushed her curls.
She wore a yellow dress and carried a purple backpack almost as large as she was.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“A little.”
“You’re going to do wonderfully.”
She looked at our reflection.
“Do you think Ava would have liked school?”
The question struck me, but I managed to smile.
“She would have loved it.”
Lily reached into her pocket and showed me a tiny silver bracelet. It had two small charms shaped like stars.
Daniel and I had given matching bracelets to the twins on their third birthday. Lily’s had been packed away for years.
“I want to wear it today,” she said.
I fastened it around her wrist.
“One star for me,” she explained, touching the first charm. “And one for Ava.”
I hugged her tightly before we left.
At school, her teacher, Ms. Thompson, welcomed us at the classroom door. She was warm and cheerful, with kind eyes and a bright blue cardigan.
Lily seemed nervous at first, but when another child invited her to sit at a table covered with crayons, she gave me a little wave.
I left with tears in my eyes, telling myself that crying on the first day of school was normal for any mother.
That afternoon, I returned early.
Children were collecting folders and stuffing artwork into backpacks. Lily was across the room talking to another girl, so I waited near the door.
Ms. Thompson approached me with a smile.
“Lily had a wonderful first day,” she said. “Both your girls are doing very well.”
I assumed I had misheard her.
“I’m sorry?”
“Both of your girls,” she repeated. “They’re adjusting beautifully.”
A strange pressure formed in my chest.
“You must be mistaken. I only have one daughter here. Lily.”
Ms. Thompson’s smile faded.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m still learning the families. But Lily has a twin sister, doesn’t she?”
I could hear my heartbeat.
“She had a twin sister.”
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