My Look-alike

I opened a magazine that came in the mail. Thumbing through it absentmindedly, as I usually do with magazines like this one, I stopped, stunned by a seemingly innocuous article about a parade in Massachusetts. There, in a large photograph accompanying the article, walking in the parade, was my look-alike.

I don’t mean a sort-of resemblance: this woman looked exactly like me, from the squarish shape of her torso to the dark-blond hair and the way it was cut, to her wide smile, to the shape and size of her face. Even the sunglasses she wore on the sunny day on which the picture was taken resemble my own sunglasses preference.

I know she was Polish-American because the magazine is from a Polish-American organization of which I am a member. She wore a Krakowiak costume, and if I had a Krakowiak costume in my size, I would have run to the closet and put it on and taken a picture of myself. But the last time I wore a Krakowiak costume I was a very young adult. I have taken out this magazine more time than I like to admit and stared at her picture. I read the article, scanning for a name, so I could look her up on social media, but she wasn’t mentioned by name. ( and looking her up could be construed as a bit creepy, so maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t named.)

I began to think about a few what-ifs? She lives in Massachusetts, I live in Ohio. What do we have in common, besides our twin-like appearance and our ethnic background? Does she like the same foods, television shows, and clothing I like? Does she have the same hopes and fears, joys and dreams? Perhaps the most pressing question of all: if we walked up to each other, would we recognize ourselves as look-alikes?

I guess I’ll never know. But I like to think that in this great, big, complex world of ours, I have a soul sister.