"Klone."(Kevin Hughes) I know. I know. I was young then, just out of Grad School. I got a job (with the help of my Sister…who was a Veterinarian). She worked at a fancy place that -for a fee- would clone your precious dog or cat, so that you would always have the “same” pet. Yep. The fee? Twenty thousand dollars per clone. They simply used the Science to take a sample of the DNA from your pooch, or kitty Kat (before they died …that is) and placing it all in an embryo.

It was one hundred percent guaranteed to work- or your money back. Science has come a long long way since cloning “Dolly” and her famous offspring. All those secondary challenges like: shortened life span, reduced immunity, and bone and tissue issues- all were surmounted by Time and Research. A clone now was an exact copy (minus experiences) of the Parent.

It was a good job. So good, it became my career. When I was sixty three years old, my wife died of Cancer. Two weeks after her funeral…I did the unthinkable.

Now, my ‘Son” is turning eighteen. My “daughter" is exactly the same age. Their Biological Mothers took the money and ran. I am eighty one years old. I am dying. Tonight I have to tell my “son”, and my “daughter” the truth. I guess I didn’t think it all the way through. Nobody does when they are grieving. I had the education, I had the opportunity. I had the motive. I didn’t want my wife to die. I wanted to be young with her …again. What would you have done?

Yeah. I thought so.

So I did the unthinkable.

Tonight they would find out why my “son” looks exactly like me, has my laugh, my athletic ability and my good grades. They would find out why my “daughter” looks just like my beloved wife, even down to the dimple in her chin and the twinkle in her eye. If you took a photo from the night my wife and I met at Sandy Bernards Sweet Sixteen Party, you would have seen copies of the two children standing in front of me now. Identical. Only the clothes would give away the decades.

Tonight they would find out why they have always been so close. A tear forms in my eye when a memory of them both comes back to me…hard. They were eight years old and out in the back yard playing together. They were making mud pies in a corner of the sandbox. I was watching from the kitchen window as I cleaned up the lunch dishes. No dishes really, they were kids, so a few carrot sticks, a peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and two jello pudding cups served as a wholesome lunch. She cut all the edges off of her sandwiches, just like my Wife used to when she was alive. He put jelly on half of a slice, and then peanut butter on the other half, and repeated the process on the other slice- just like I did when I was eight years old.

I heard her say:

“We should get married.”

I heard him laugh - I knew that laugh. After all, I had laughed like that my whole life.

“Why? We are already brother and sister. Isn’t that good enough?”

She laughed back. I knew that laugh. It brought a tear to my eye.

“Well, if we get married, then it is sort of Official.”

I heard him agree.

Tonight I will tell them that they can get married. They are not brother and sister. They are not twins (which everyone suspected they must be, because they were so close to each other). They are clones. One of me. One of my wife. But he wasn’t me…and she wasn’t my Wife. They had different experiences than we did, and over time, it made them different people. Your clone is not you. I wanted to tell the world that. I left it up to them.

Yeah, your genes make you …but life is what you make it.

I know that…now.

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