Her chin is the mother’s brother’s, and mother’s father’s family’s in general. It is a shared chin, nondescript only because it is omnipresent.
Her lips are not like her brother’s, which are the mother’s and the mother’s grandfather’s: full of ideas, fat with possibility. Hers are her father’s: sleek in body and intentional of curve, designed and focused.
The boy’s hair is blond wisp, from anyone from either side of either side of any side. Hers is a brownish fluff of hair, from a different anyone in any direction.
Their eyes are almond, but the girl’s are large and forward and clear blue like their extroverted father’s and the boy’s are large and reserved like the introverted mother’s, and greyishbluegreenishbrown.
Neither has much neck to speak of. The mother’s mother and sister have all the neck and did not choose to share.
They are both long like their mother’s brother and sister, weaving around as they move and are moved.
The girl’s cheeks are the wide cheeks of her father’s sister, the browner of the three sisters, and dimples are now an official tradition of sisterliness.
Noses, more than anything, are always a game of roulette.
Their ears are lovely, forgettable things tucked away on the sides and quietly going about their business.
The boy has paws that speak of his mother’s brother’s bigness and harken a possibility of respectable size, dark beards, and tattoos.
The girl has the candlelight fingers of all the mothers and aunts: long and tapered, formal and flickering with fire.
Their voices are their own. His enthusiastic and alto and hers insistent and distinct.
Of feet, the boy’s are stalwart cubes that reject flippancy and require either total independence or long-term commitment. The girl’s have less heft, and her toes wave slowly like fronds in the tide. His feet will never weaken, hers will never sink.