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January 22nd. The day that changed my life forever.
I was 13 years old, and boy was I something. I could nonchalantly degrade the hearts, and stomp the dreams of those around me, and feel pride. I was mean. Maybe it was the terrible sequence of events that had turned me so cold. Losing my best friend, having every crude 7th grade student in school hate me, or maybe it was just my way of getting back at the world. But for whatever reason, I was a terrible person. And I was happy to own the title.
I remember that day like it was yesterday morning’s bowl of cereal. I showed up to school, and put on my routine act of sheer anger. I sat in class, informed my teachers that I once again was unable to complete my homework assignment the previous night, followed by some unworldly explanation of why. Walking through the halls, I heard nothing. It was loud, there was noise. But I was tuned out, like always. I had grown to hate school, and people, and any living creature that expected something out of me on a daily basis. I was irresponsible, and unforgiving. I had no care in the world, all I wanted was to go home, and sleep. To forget the world, crawl into my bed, and hang sheets over my windows. On the outside, people thought I was happy. My parents thought I was a normal child. I put on this act, and I played it well. “Oh, guess what Daddy! I finished my homework at school!” I would put on this fake voice, and this unfailing act, and he would smile. Because he was be proud.
January 22nd, the day I finally decided to change.
I was called down to the office by my mom. She worked as a secretary in the office, which worked out particularly nice. My grandma was there, waiting outside in her flashy BMW. I mentally prepared myself for the act. “Nonny, I missed you!”
The car ride seemed like hours. I was so nervous. Scared. Intimidated. I didn’t know what to make of the situation. Usually I either had things figured out before they happened, or I just decided I didn’t care.
But this was January 22nd. Today, I took off my mask. I began to live, and I shed my act.
The hospital was cold. I sat in the waiting room, shivering, and pondering. I tried my best to act like I didn’t care. But I did. This was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in a long time. I was ready to once again feel responsibility, to have fun, and to live. How could I not when faced with this situation?
Dad ran out of the large double doors. There were tears running down his face. I was excited. Ben and I ran to him, and we hugged him, and I meant my hug. I felt it. Strange. My feelings were slowly returning. I loved my Dad. I wanted him to never let go.
The large blue curtain blocked the hospital bed like the Berlin Wall. I was a scared little East Berliner, wanting to go in to escape the world behind me, but at the same time nervous of what was on the other side.
Dad pulled the curtain away. I was overwhelmed with emotions. I felt like the world had stopped. There was an imaginary woman in a white dress standing beside me. She had a clip board in her hand, checking off all these emotions that I hadn’t felt in months. “Nervous? Check! Scared? Check! Excited? Check!” I stood with a smile, a smile and nothing more.
Time sped up, words were said, and tears were shed. There they were. They had tiny little faces, and tiny little hands. I fell in love with them. They were mine. They were my sisters. They were twins.
I laughed, and I smiled, and I cuddled, and I loved. I am Emily Joe W. I am in control of my life. And I will be wonderful.
Their names are Avery Elizabeth Hope, and Finley Suzanne Faith.
That day, on January 22nd, my life was changed forever.
And as I sit here, and write this story, this life-changing experience, my sisters call my name. They cry, and they smile, and they laugh, and they love. They are people, they are humans. They are much better than I myself will ever be.
My sisters changed my life, and through them, I am me.