I was different; I was special. That was one thing that my mother and father had told me as I was growing up. They told me that they were proud of my twin brother and me, and I believed them. I could see the pride in their eyes. However, I knew that my twin didn't believe them.
He was peculiar, my twin. Bad stuff seemed to happen to him, and it made his life miserable. He did hang out with me and seemed to enjoy my company, but there were days where he couldn't stand me for some reason.
Mom never made it a competition between us. She loved us both equally and showed us the same amount of love and attention, even with five more children. She told us every day that she was proud of us, but that wasn't enough for my twin.
No, something happened one day and made his whole attitude change. And, I was about to find what it was and how my mother became the Director of our small group.
Because sometimes, the end of a story is not the end. It is only the beginning.