East and West

For as long as I can remember my sister, two years my senior, and I have constantly been told that we look identical and in-so-doing, have been, on several occassions, mistaken for twins. It was not until a few years ago, when those types of comments ceased to roll off the tongues of acquaintances. In reminiscing of why this could be so, I pondered the possible reasons. That is when I stumbled across the memory of the time I stepped-foot in my sister's then, new apartment off the bustling street of Mill Avenue three years ago.

It was as if I was walking into an alternate universe, as if I was tripping on acid, like a supernatural scene from the movie "Across the Universe." As I crossed the threshhold into her new home, the smell of incense burned through the hazy room. I picked up my head and my eyes immediately zoned in on a multi-colored painting of The Beatles hanging above her purple, velvet couch, covered with clothes spew about. Tentatively making my way to the back of the apartment into her room, I couldn't help but realize how my outfit, couture, chic, and trendy, immediately clashed with the sight of dingy earth-tone colors that splashed the walls and devoured her bedspread. Along the corners of the 14 by 10 foot cubbyhole, she had pinned up old posters of classic rock "oldies-but-goodies" as she would say; among them: Bob Dylan, Led Zepplin, the Steve Miller Band, and several pictures of probably the most unforgettable rastafarian known to mankind, Bob Marley, who, in the black and white photograph was embracing the aroma of weed exuding from the joint loosely held in-between his rugged fingers.

Through the reflection of the mirror placed above her oak dresser, I began to study the girl who was once thought to be my replicate. Very thin, ashy colored hair that fell wildly down past her shoulders, hardly any make-up, piercing blue eyes that could match the coldest ocean waters, redish-freckles imprinted on her pale skin from the burning desert sun, clothes, complementing the natural theme of her room draped across her body, and an attitude that could calm even the angriest soul. She was much different than I. Assuming that my thoughts read across my face, she then asked me what was the matter. However, I had no words; I didn't know what to say. I just knew that I felt uncomfortable in the reality that she and I, who were once so alike, were now so dissimilar. That's when I responded, "We are just different, that's all."