Kira and Mia, aged thirteen and twelve, played outside their Victorian styled home until their mother called them in for dinner. Dressed in identical frocks, their ponytails tied with ribbons matched the colour of their socks, and the two buried their noses in the sand hills, climbed up the trees, spoke to the curious bunnies offering them carrots and swung on the gates; they lived in a paracosm world of their own.
I watched the two of them from my apartment opposite theirs, reliving my childhood days. My life, what was left of it, was spent in the 8 square-meter between the window overlooking the girls' house and my bed. I was confined to my wheelchair and just pushing myself from the bed to the window left me panting. So there I stayed, all day, watching, listening, smiling at their antics.
It was clear that the mother favoured the elder one, Kira. It was always, "Kira, I got you your favourite chocolate cookies", "Kira, you got an A in your science class. I am so proud of you", "Kira honey, come fast, the dinner is getting cold". I never heard the younger one's name from her mouth. And the father was always travelling, one business meeting to another. When he did come home, he bribed his way to the elder daughter's heart with a gift or two but nothing for poor Mia.
If I could, I would go up to them and give them a piece of my mind. How could they differentiate between their two beautiful daughters?
I watched the two of them from my apartment opposite theirs, reliving my childhood days. My life, what was left of it, was spent in the 8 square-meter between the window overlooking the girls' house and my bed. I was confined to my wheelchair and just pushing myself from the bed to the window left me panting. So there I stayed, all day, watching, listening, smiling at their antics.
It was clear that the mother favoured the elder one, Kira. It was always, "Kira, I got you your favourite chocolate cookies", "Kira, you got an A in your science class. I am so proud of you", "Kira honey, come fast, the dinner is getting cold". I never heard the younger one's name from her mouth. And the father was always travelling, one business meeting to another. When he did come home, he bribed his way to the elder daughter's heart with a gift or two but nothing for poor Mia.
If I could, I would go up to them and give them a piece of my mind. How could they differentiate between their two beautiful daughters?