Dear Karl,

Remember when we were little, I seven and you six, we used to cry at church just because everyone else was crying? I remember that one Sunday, when we took a look at your mom. You had your Dear Daniel stuffed toy from McDonald's and I remember how jealous I was because I wanted one too.

'Why is everyone crying?' you yelled at me over the loud music.

'How should I know?!' I snapped, annoyed that you shook me out of my reverie. You looked at your mom worriedly and I looked too.

'Because your dad's a pastor!' tears were pooling around your eyes, you were so worried. I looked around again and panicked, but not enough that my tears would just cascade down. And so I told you to think about the dying people in India, the starving children in Africa, the beggars in every street in our very own Manila, the children warriors in Mindanao… every bad thing that my seven year old mind could think of, I relayed to you. I thought that was why everyone was crying. You thought so too, and so we squeezed our eyes shut and forced the salted water to come out.

We were successful but by the end of the service, we already forgot why we were crying. Do you remember? I hope you do. It makes me smile when I think about it. Two little girls, genetically related, yet always clashing, crying for a mutual reason.

I hope you still think about those things, but not so you can make yourself cry in church.

Hugs and more hugs,

Twila. (Aug. 12, 2008)

Hey Karl,

I remember the times when you would come for a visit while Jashmine was around. You fought with her a lot, jealous that she got to spend more time with me than you. Remember how she didn't do anything? How she would just lay low when you were around? She liked you. She wanted to be friends with you. You wanted to be friends with her too, I could tell, but you thought I liked her better than you, so you didn't bother trying.

I didn't do anything because I didn't want any of you to feel betrayed that I sided with the other or anything like that. I liked the both of you. But sometimes, I guess that's not enough. Even though I wanted all of us to get along, I still left, didn't I? In the end, the three of us are apart anyhow. I guess you just can never have two at a time, no matter how important both of them are.

I love you. Hope you love me back,

Twila. (Jan. 4, 2009)

Dear Karl,

You sang better than me, you were smarter than me. I was always jealous of the medals and awards that you got, the compliments, the attention. I didn't really want the attention, but I wanted the medals, to prove that I was worth something. Now, I'm getting what I want, but I still feel like there's a void in me. Perhaps because it wasn't what I really wanted?

I just don't know anymore.

Your twin cousin,

Twila. (March 16, 2009)

To Karl,

I'm learning Spanish. I want to go to Spain and South America to do some outreach, counseling others, doing anything I can. How about you?

Do you remember the list of countries you wanted to visit? Do you still have it? I remember that. You listed New Zealand and U.S.A, Australia and Switzerland. Canada. Portugal. Eastern Russia.

'What's Canada? Is that even real?' I scrunched my nose up, eagerly questioning your knowledge. I secretly wished that you were just making Canada up, that for once, I was right.

'Yes, it is. It's on top of America. I saw pictures. It's snowy and they have caribou in the cities.'

'Caribou? Like, a carabao?'

'Caribou, like a deer, I think.' Your eyes glazed over as you looked at your list, stroking it absent mindedly. It was as if you already left for Canada.

'Do you even have money to get out of here?' I asked quietly. I always used the money card, probably because my parents were better off than yours. You shook your head and gave me a big smile.

'Someday, I will.'

'But don't you want to see the other pretty places here first? I bet that'd be easier to do.'

'I want to be anywhere but here in this hellhole of a country.'

The irony is that, I now live where you wanted to go. And if I ever spot a caribou, I promise I'll tell you.

From,

Twila. (May 2, 2009)

Dear Karl,

I don't know what to call you anymore. You don't want to be called 'Karl' and I don't know if I should call you 'Tricia' like your school friends do or something. It was like you dropped your face and replaced it with another. You did a lot of growing up that I just don't recognize you.

To be fair, I don't think you'll recognize me if you ever see me in a crowd either. I've grown taller, I got rid of my despicable glasses and my hair is now an infinite mess. I don't act on stage as much anymore, but I write what the actors have to act instead. You did some growing up and I suppose I did too. But you know

I'll always be

Twila. (May 26, 2009)

Karl,

Every day, we're getting older. Time is running by really fast and I'm so so scared. My memory is like a sieve and slowly, slowly my memories fade, running down the page, bleeding through. I don't remember much now.

Do you remember the days we spent under the hot sun, laughing and playing? Do you remember the days when everyone was still alive, convened in my house? Remember how you always slept over at my house and how we promised to grow old together? Remember, remember?

… I don't.

Could you remind me?

Twila. (Aug. 12, 2009)