Some Questions Remain With Us for a Lifetime

For most of my life, I believed I had once been one of two.

My twin sister, Ella, disappeared when we were five years old.

I had been ill with a fever and remained at my grandmother’s house while Ella played outside. Before the day ended, neighbors, police officers, and volunteers were searching the nearby woods.

She never came home.

As a child, I understood only fragments of what had happened.

The adults carried the conversations in quiet voices.

Questions were answered briefly or not at all.

There was no place where I could sit and remember her.

No stories were shared around the dinner table.

In time, even her name became something rarely spoken.

Yet silence does not erase love.

It simply leaves grief without words.

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