Twins--The Forked Roads Less Traveled

Twins born eight minutes apart, on either side of midnight, December 31. There is no global unanimity on whether midnight is the last second of one day or the first second of another, but falling sometime during the eight minutes of two live births meant that these boys had not only two different birthdays but two different birth years.

Astrologers would lose their minds over this because blood is stronger than the gravitational waves from the cosmos.

In 15 or 16 years, the DMV would smile on one but decry the other. In 18 years, the Draft Board would adjudicate one but reprieve the other. School boards would need to decide whether to penalize one or socially promote the other. Age groups would splinter in indecision. Religion would say one had reached the Age of Reason while the other was still protected by Limbo.

One child would follow the other in respect of their birth order in most things. Two different birth years meant that the birth order wasn't first and second, but first and last.

Could it be said that one child could see eight minutes into his future simply by looking at his brother? No. Not if they were holding hands. Not if they remained together. Not if they remained one, like the common womb that carried them; like the common mother who birthed them. Like the single egg that chose both sides of the fork in the road.

But even forked roads can lead to the same place, eventually. They just need to avoid the roadblocks.