Six Years After One of My Twin Daughters Died, My Second One Came from Her First Day at School, Saying: ‘Pack One More Lunchbox for My Sister’

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The first day of first grade felt like a fresh start. Junie marched up the sidewalk, pigtails swinging, and I waved, praying she’d make friends.

I spent the day cleaning, trying to scrub off my nerves.

The grief changed us.

“Relax, Phoebe,” I said out loud. “June-bug’s going to be just fine.”

That afternoon, I barely had time to set down the sponge before the front door slammed.

Junie burst in, backpack half open, cheeks flushed.

“Mom! Tomorrow you have to pack one more lunchbox!”

I blinked, rinsing soap from my hands. “One more? Why, sweetheart? Did Mommy not pack enough?”

She tossed her backpack onto the floor and rolled her eyes, like I should already know.