The snow and the jets glided through the air in opposite directions, simultaneously defying gravity. I watched them from a lonely row of chairs that looked like they belonged on a bus more than they belonged in an airport. I sat in front of two wide, thick-glassed windows in my oversized black fleece trench coat, watching the hustle and bustle of the outside world. When I shifted the buttons of my jacket clicked and the fabric rustled. My luggage bumped against the side of my calf. I didn't move. The outside world moved enough for everyone. The airplanes drifted away, their engines becoming inaudible in the distance, lost in the wind, but the snow remained steady and there was no denying it was the middle of winter.

The ambience reminded me of all the winters of my childhood. Sara and I stayed inside those months, cuddled on the couch watching cartoons in our pajamas while our mother brought us hot chocolate. We kept a thin red blanket on the back of the couch, and it always ended up draped across our laps, our knobby knees kissing beneath the covers. I wanted that to happen again. I wanted Sara to chug her hot chocolate the moment it was a withstandable temperature then frowned when it was gone so that I could give her the rest of my cup and watch her smile. Maybe, I thought briefly, this was something I could do with Lindsey. But then I remembered I was going home and I wanted to do it with Sara all over again.

Sara told me she wanted me to come home for Christmas. Just by saying those words it meant that she thought home was Calgary and not Montreal. I thought the same when I was thinking of a place and not the temple of Sara, which was my true domain. Whichever way I thought of it, I was eager to return to where I belonged. I had finally started settling into Vancouver and Lindsey, but hearing Sara's voice in those brief moments after such a long time without it made me anxious and restless as I had been before. Lindsey saw what Sara could do to me so easily and immediately she was telling me to order a plane ticket. I went online that afternoon, and I wanted to order two boarding passes, not one. Part of me was frightened and needed Lindsey to help keep me company as I rejoined my other half. Part of me wanted to bring her along and show Sara that I was still alive because of this girl. (Also, I knew my mother would be pleased, proud, and excited, clapping her hands together in joy that I had found someone else besides my sister to make me happy.) I wanted to show her off and I wanted to use her to make Sara regretful for leaving me. I wanted Lindsey there, but that was only a part of me, and Lindsey herself didn't want to come. I think she knew. I think she saw in my eyes what I really wanted; to go be with Sara and never come back.

"Go see your sister," she told me. "You haven't seen your family in a long time. I haven't seen mine either. Go. Everything will be ok." She soothed me enough that I agreed, ordering a single plane ticket to Calgary, and then buying her ticket to LA. I was in control of where everyone was going this time. She couldn't pull any surprises on me in the airport.

There was a night of frantic packing and darting between apartments, followed by exhaustion and only a small window of sleep. We laid in my bed and Lindsey passed out in my arms almost immediately. I couldn't fall asleep so easily, so I pulled the cover over our bodies, held her, and stared at our bags on the floor. My suitcase was propped up against hers. The night would have been easier, I thought, if Lindsey was with me all the time and all of our stuff was in the same apartment. I could lock my door if she lived with me.

Early in the morning we took a cab to the airport. She offered to carry my luggage as well as her own, knowing I had a bad track record with carrying suitcases, but I wanted to hold her hand as long as we were still together, so I carried my own bags until we reached the terminals and had to go our separate ways. We hugged and kissed goodbye and neither of us carried any weight then, our bags on the floor and our worries elsewhere for the brief moment. I watched her leave and go through inspection until I couldn't see her anymore. Then I turned around and took a seat. I wanted to be the snow so I could be everywhere.

The same white blanket was covering Calgary. I watched it fall and drape over the landscape for the entirety of the plane ride. I felt bad for the flakes unlucky enough to be severed and melted by the wings of the plane. Their journey was cut short, and they didn't even get to fully experience the thrill of the sky dive. But they dripped from the wings as water to rejoin their brothers, the same stuff in just a different form with more battle scars.

I noticed two things about the airport when I landed in Calgary. One was the snow, and the other was that I exited from the same boarding pad I'd boarded on my flight to Vancouver. I looked to my left to see a sign for a flight from Montreal that had also just landed, and my heart skipped a beat when I thought for a moment that I'd see Sara coming back to the spot where she'd left me. Then I remembered that she had called me from Calgary and she was already here. My mood fell slightly, but then it rose again. She was here! She'd be arriving from the airport entrance, not the landing dock, but I would still get to see her here today. I rushed to the baggage claim and back as quickly as I could. I had to get outside to find mom's car, and I didn't care that the cold blanket was draping over me. My body would warm with my twin in my sight and her seat mere feet from mine in the car.

Some cars left the parking garage. Other cars parked. Taxis cabs with pick-ups and drop-offs slammed their doors and rushed away behind and beside each other. In the midst of it all was my mother's ride, small and dark compared to the yellow cabs and large colorful vans flashing their transportation companies' logos and their promise of car rental and vacation at the end of the shockingly quick ride. I rushed to the car as quickly as I could, my luggage hindering me and making my steps resemble those of a child too pudgy and too new to the life of a biped. I dropped my things on the street, and I didn't care which way they fell and coated themselves in chunky, gray slush. I cupped my hands around the glass of the driver's side window and flashed my biggest smile. My breath misted the thin glass between my hands. I could see my mother smile back at me the way she did when I was a child. I could see the youth in her wrinkles. She was younger and older at the same time, and I wrapped my arms around her miniature body when she opened the door to me. Her feet stumbled against the slippery slush, and I held her steady with my arms. She cupped my cheeks in her hands, gave me a long look, and I knew she'd missed me. She twisted her face to kiss the chilled cheeks her frozen palms held, and my eyes shifted over her shoulder to the empty passenger seat and the empty rear of the car. Sara did not walk around the side of the vehicle to help me with my bags. It was just my mother and I who took turns shoving my luggage into the trunk. When we were all loaded up, I sat in the passenger's seat where Sara should have been, and it was not warmed by her person. I felt as empty as the last time I'd been left in this airport alone.

My mom turned the volume on the radio all the way to the left and told me with a lilt of joy and relief in her voice how much she'd missed me. I asked where Sara was.

"Home helping your aunt hang decorations. You know how Julie needs supervision," she joked. I didn't laugh. Sara had managed to escape me once again. But this would be the last time. There was one thing I knew and that was that me and Sara were not meant to be apart, not from the very second we were created. She couldn't run forever.

I could feel Sara getting closer. I'd always been able to tell if my twin was near me. Even when my eyes were closed in sleep my dreams were affected by the presence of my twin. If Sara left at any point during the night to use the bathroom or get a glass of water, my body knew it and an unsettling feeling took over my dreams. My brow knitted in my sleep, then relaxed when Sara's body returned next to mine. If I remembered incongruous dark parts of my dreams, then I knew Sara had been restless during the night. When I woke up the next morning with this realization, I automatically turned and cupped my body tight around Sara's so she couldn't leave me again. I had experienced quite a bit of this unease in Vancouver when I'd first moved, but the nightmares happened less often with Lindsey in bed with me. I thought maybe my twin sensors had been numbed due to the distance, but they had been heightened and everything in my body was on edge and aware that Sara was just a car ride away.

But why hadn't she come with Mom to see me? Julie would be perfectly fine alone for half an hour. Did Mom really make Sara stay behind, or did Sara volunteer? Did she want to be in the car with me right now? Had she wanted to be in my arms, wrapped around my torso the way Mom had been? Could she sense that I was near? Was she excited to be around me, or was she dreading my presence? She ran off to Montreal to avoid seeing me. Why would she want me around now? I had too many questions to ask her, and I didn't know which to bring up first. I hoped she'd see me and understand, read my thoughts and feelings instantly like a twin should be able to do. She knew me well enough to know what I wanted to say. Could either of us had changed that much in the separation to affect our connection?

The house looked beautiful from the curb. It outshined every house on the block in terms of decoration, and it immediately put me in that festive holiday mood. I hadn't paid attention to a single holiday that year except from noting when I got an extra day off work. Without Sara I didn't feel the desire to celebrate, and Lindsey hadn't pushed any parties or costumes or themed decorations on either of our apartments. The year had gone by uneventfully, but now that the house was decked with holly and Christmas lights and I knew my family was inside – knew my sister was inside – some Christmas cheer worked its way into my heart. I didn't feel like The Grinch anymore.

"The house looks beautiful, Mom," I said in awe, closing my car door and grabbing my bags from the trunk. "I love the lights." Before, we'd always had standard strings of lights, little bulbs with a rainbow of colors. This year the roof was accented with a line of fake icicles, glowing blue and giving the illusion that they could fall at any moment.

"Your sister chose the lights." My mom smiled at me, grabbing the bags I couldn't carry. "Even hung 'em up herself. For such a small girl she had no problem getting right on that ladder and hooking them up there."

My heart grew another size. Of course my favorite piece had been one Sara picked out.

Despite the warmth of nostalgia, the cold seemed to steal my breath again. We were walking now, rolling my bags against the stone walkway, bringing me closer to Sara. The icicles looked even better close up. I watched them, waiting for one to break as my mother opened the door.

"Guess who's here!" she shouted, walking into the house first and ushering me in behind her. Aunt Julie jumped from the couch and hugged me even tighter than my mom did in the airport parking garage. I smiled at her, and she commented on how big I'd gotten. But with her only being 4'9", it wasn't hard to be bigger than her. She commented on Sara and I's height every time she saw us, even though we stopped growing years ago.

Julie continued speaking to me, but I didn't hear a word she said. Over her head was a mirror; my reflection. On top of a step ladder, body leaning towards the tip of the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, was Sara. My heart stopped.

She looked so good. She'd let her hair grow out, the chocolate locks kissing the tips of her shoulders now as they fell away from her skull. Her frame was still lean and muscular and I could tell she'd been keeping up some kind of diet and workout routine. Her body was more fit than my own, but she was always the stronger one. It suited her. She looked healthy, as good as I'd ever seen her, and I knew I had to look like a wreck. My body had been through too much the past year to show the same signs of success and health that Sara's did. I hadn't eaten right when I first moved to Vancouver, and even though I'd gotten an appetite back because of Lindsey, I still couldn't eat like I had before. I was skinnier than usual, and I became suddenly self-conscious that my bones would show through my ribcage. I didn't want to show Sara that I had been a wreck without her, but whether the hardships manifested themselves physically or not, I knew Sara knew how rough loneliness had been on me. She knew she was my life force.

I noted the ladder and chuckled a little, expelling the small breath still held in my lungs in short gasps. Mom was right. Sara was small. The step ladder elevated her to the same height as the tree, making it easier for her to place the small plastic angel in her hand on the tip of the fake, green pine. Once the topper was in place, Sara climbed down the miniature steps and plugged a power cord into the wall. The angel lit up, casting a soothing shade of golden yellow onto the tree, making the ornaments glimmer. I looked to the angel's smile. It was perfect. She reminded me of Sara.

My own smile had relaxed my lungs and soon air was flowing back into them. I felt a peace and the tingling warmth of completeness. It no longer felt like I was running on fifty percent. My other half was in the same room as me, and I realized how long it had been since I'd felt like a whole person like this.

Sara's eyes were on me, and I could see the hesitation in them. My eyes instantly mirrored the same apprehension, and we stood there, still and unmoving, waiting for the other to do something. How did we approach each other? She had left me, and I didn't feel like I could run up to her and engulf her, squeeze every ounce of my love into her and tell her how much she meant to me like I wanted to. I felt the need to hold back, like if I didn't stay still I was afraid I was going to suffocate her with affection and anger her.

"Don't just stand there!" My mom broke the silence. "Go hug your sister!" Her hand pushed lightly against my shoulder, sending me a foot or so forward, but I was still panicking and couldn't propel myself the rest of the way towards Sara like she had instructed. Sara saw my internal struggle and did the work for me, approaching me. I'd never felt as warm as I did when her arms lightly wrapped around me then. Her body was heavenly, and I never wanted to let go. The world melted away around me and I forgot all about how she left me in Vancouver without so much as a warning. We were back together again and that's all that mattered. Her head was on my shoulder, and I wanted so badly to pull her back to eye level and kiss her.

"I missed you," I said instead and my voice felt foreign in my dry mouth.

"I missed you too," she replied softly, and I could tell it was genuine. Any hurt she'd caused me, it didn't matter now. She was my Sara and I forgave her.

"Help your sister carry her bags to her room, Sar," my mom interrupted again, the hug between Sara and I still lingering. We broke away, dazed by the memory of other people in the room, and Sara quickly reached for the handle of one of my bags by the door. Even though her body had separated from mine, I didn't feel empty. I followed her lead, grabbing bags and heading into the hallways of my familiar childhood home, my true home.

We were barely in the doorway of my room before she tossed my stuff onto the side of the bed and latched onto me again, her arms around my waist. I let go of the handles in my grip, letting my bags fall to the floor, and held her back, my arms around her shoulders. Her head buried itself into my chest, and I embraced the warmth once again. My chin rested against the crown of her head until I couldn't take it anymore. My lips were on fire and I had to put them on her, where they belonged. First, I kissed the top of her head where my chin had sat, but then I gently lifted her own chin and brought her face to mine. Our lips melted together. It felt like home. Lindsey's lips never felt like this against my own.

"I'm sorry," she said, breaking the kiss, and I couldn't tell if she was apologizing for stopping the moment or leaving me at the airport.

"It's okay," I said anyway, feeling better than I had in months even though the kiss was short and already starting to forgive her for moving away from me even though that had been anything but okay. "I love you," I tried, suddenly needing to hear it back, to make sure she still felt that way about me.

"I love you too, Tegan." Her head was on my chest again, and I could feel her breath on my collar bone even thorough the fabric of my shirt. Everything about her was warm. "I really do, Tee."

I believed her because we were twins and I knew she had to feel what I was feeling, even if just by association.

"Do you trust me?" she asked out of the blue, and I didn't think it was a question that needed to be asked. Love and trust were synonymous in my opinion, and I had always felt both for Sara. Even after she had gone behind my back to move to the other side of the country, I still trusted her completely.

"Of course I do."

"Then don't sleep in here tonight. When we go to bed come to my room. Just like we used to, okay?"

I nodded my head, knowing she could feel the movement over my rib cage, despite not being able to see it. "Okay," I agreed, unable to tell her exactly how excited I felt at the notion of our school days, of those times when we were always inseparable and she didn't live three thousand miles away, when we could sleep in the same bed every night and not have to arrange plans to do it. I didn't know how to tell her about all the butterflies hatching in my stomach, so I just admired their beauty and held her as they took flight.