Gino was an Aries and I was a Cancer, meaning his birthday was in April while mine was in June. He had been two months older than me, but I had been under the machine’s influence a fraction of a second less than Gino. He waved his hands happily at me in lou of speech. At least he looked healthy, I thought. Momma looked down at me and said with tears in her eyes, “My poor, poor babies! What have you done to yourselves? You’re going to be infants for the rest of your lives! What am I going to do with you?”
Gino gazed up at her with a pleading look in his eyes as if to ask my momma to take him in and be his momma too.