My older sister and I were often mistaken for twins growing up. Besides our similar — read: almost identical (no pun intended) — haircuts, we looked nothing alike. Anne — pronounced Annie — looks like a Cooper (my mom’s family), and I look like a Kirsch. Appearances aside, she gets me. She’s always there for me when I need her, and she’ll be the first to tell me when I’m right or wrong.
And, just when I needed a good laugh — as if we’re telepathically linked — I noticed a series of text messages from my sister, with pictures of pictures from our childhood.