Chapter 1 - Twelve Rules
When my sister Naomi gave birth to twins, our entire family was desperate to meet them. A boy and a girl. After three difficult years of trying, they felt like a miracle we'd all been waiting on together.
Naomi kept the first few weeks quiet — no visitors, no photos, no dropping by. Nobody complained. Then she invited everyone to Sunday dinner.
"Don't bring anyone else," she texted. "Just family. Come at 4:00 p.m."
My brother Trent responded with six heart emojis. My aunt offered to bring lasagna. Mom called me and said, "Do you think it's too much if I bring the blue blanket?"
I didn't know what blue blanket she meant. "Probably not," I said.
The next night, Naomi sent us a list. Twelve rules for meeting the twins. At first I thought she was just being careful.
Wash your hands upon arrival and before touching either baby. No kissing their faces or hands. Don't come if you're sick, even if you think it's "just allergies."
All reasonable. Then the rules got strange.
No photographs. Don't ask or comment on who the twins resemble. Don't ask me about breastfeeding. Don't ask why the boy wears a silver bracelet. Don't pick either baby up unless Coleman or I hand them to you.
Then Rule Number 12.
Grandma must not bring the blue blanket.
I was sitting at Mom's kitchen table when she read it. She went completely still.
"What?" I asked.
Mom read the line again. Then she picked up her phone and called Naomi. Straight to voicemail. She called again — nothing. Mom stood and reached for her coat.
"Cancel tomorrow's dinner."
I laughed, thinking she was overreacting. "What?"
"Tell everyone it's canceled."
"Everyone's excited for tomorrow. Why are we canceling?"
"Because Naomi knows."
May you like
"Knows what?"
Mom looked at me, and for a second she seemed much older than seventy-eight. "Not tonight," she said. That was all I got.
