Chicken Soup for the Soul Celebrates Sisters by Jack Canfield Page B

sister. While accompanying her husband to New York for a business meeting, she had wandered around Soho by herself only to discover a new hotel for us, one which could possibly be more perfect than the last.
    Betsy Banks Epstein





A HOLE IN MY HEART
    I was just three and half years old when my dad was killed in a helicopter accident. Even though I do not remember him, I have always felt that his death left a hole in my heart. I have never known how to describe how I feel other than to say that a space was left in my heart that no one else could fill.
    A few years ago my mother remarried after being a single mom for a long time. My brother and I were really shocked when she said she wanted another child.
    She and my stepfather went through a lot of hard times with infertility to have a baby. Finally after many months, my mom found out she was expecting.
    I was not sure at first how it would be with another child in the house because it had always been just my brother and me. My mom chose not to find out if she was having a boy or a girl.
    After what seemed like a long time, my mom had a little girl named Bella on Valentine’s Day. I had secretly been praying all along for my mom’s baby to be a girl. The minute I looked at my little sister I knew she was something special. I think she was a gift to us to bring our two families together.
    I realized after a very short time that Bella filled that big hole in my heart that had been there for so long.
    Krista Allison, age thirteen







DOUBLY BLESSED
    I was sitting in a play yard at a McDonald’s restaurant. What little food my five-year-old daughter was going to eat had been eaten and all that was left was the playing.
    A handful of children scampered before me. My daughter was somewhere in the mix. After a few moments, she rocketed out of a pit of balls, scattering them everywhere.
    â€œNatalie, be careful,” I muttered. She squealed in delight, not hearing a word. She ran toward me panting, “Did you see them?” she asked eagerly.
    â€œDid I see who?” I cringed, nervous I was about to have one of those “my kid said what ?” type situations.
    â€œThem!” She pointed at two little girls about her age. “They’re the same kid twice!” She announced.
    â€œThey aren’t the same child twice,” I explained, smiling.
    â€œThey wear the same clothes,” she loudly noted again. “And the same face!” She bellowed completely elated at her discoveries.
    â€œI think they’re neat!” she hollered over her shoulder as she ran off.
    â€œMe, too,” I said, more to myself than anyone.
    â€œThank you,” came a voice next to me. I turned and realized she was the mother of the twins. She smiled. She seemed unoffended by my daughter’s gawking.
    In silence we watched them play, my one and her two. I couldn’t blame Natalie for being fascinated. They were interesting to watch—and extremely cute in their matching pink outfits and identical haircuts. Even their eyes were the exact same color.
    With amusement I noticed that within just mere minutes of retying one of their shoes the other limped over with her laces hanging. And almost in unison their matching barrettes seemed to plop from their heads.
    I shrugged. If God could manage the miracle of bringing two identical beings into this world within minutes of each other then simultaneously falling barrettes and untied laces were nothing.
    â€œThey really are beautiful,” I commented.
    She smiled proudly. “Thank you.”
    We watched in silence a few minutes more while concentrating on the children. The play yard had now emptied except for us.
    â€œThey want me to separate them,” she announced. I faced her. We weren’t parallel talking anymore. We were talking to each other.
    â€œWho?” I asked.
    â€œThe school,” she frowned. “They go to kindergarten next week and they think it’s best for