The Perfect Equation

Sandy’s backyard picnic table was our aircraft, and we were glamorous stewardesses. Although she was a slender brunette and I was a sturdy blonde, we were also identical twins. Our handsome husbands, twins too, were the pilots. This explained why our children—we each had the same Baby First Step and Baby Secret dolls—though cousins, looked absolutely alike. The umbrella-adjustment button became the flight PA, where with enticing voices, we announced that the drink service would soon begin. On our fantasy flight, Sandy and I never entered the cockpit, let alone pretended to touch the controls. We instead remained in the cabin, pleased that everything added up so perfectly.