Getting A Leg Up On The Investigation

When I was eleven, my identical twin sister and I attended the same summer day camp. While most counselors and campers could tell us apart immediately, there was one kid who struggled immensely. For the entire week, he approached us with furrowed brows, trying to crack the code.

He looked at our heights, our face shapes, and spent time searching for a mole or freckle that only one of us possessed.

He tried everything to distinguish us, kept coming up to us asking us to hide our name tags so he could guess, and failing every time. It took him the full week to realize the obvious: my twin sister has a prosthetic leg (traumatic lawnmower accident). We weren’t hiding this fact; in fact, due to the summer weather, we wore skirts or shorts every day, so our legs were always visible.

On the last day, he finally noticed. I’m not sure what was up with him – maybe he expected the difference to be in our faces, where most people would look when talking to us?

Now, whenever I feel absent-minded, I think of that boy and his week-long mystery. Wherever he is, I hope he’s learned to look a little closer.