Whenever my siblings—Aliza and Zachary—and I went out for ice cream or got sodas when we were young, our parents would always get us two cups or bottles to split. Sometimes, I remember, this made me annoyed—why did we have to share? Couldn’t we each get our own cup? But as I look back on it now, I feel that doing this brought us closer together—we learned how to share and grew closer to each other through simple shared experiences. Of course, there’s also a financial benefit of buying two ice creams instead of three (it’s worth noting that my parents did not spring for only two pairs of glasses for the three of us!).
In fact, my triplet siblings and I—we don’t have any other younger or older siblings—spent much of our formative years sharing. Of course we share a birthday, which when we were younger meant joint big blowout birthday parties like the one we had at the local movie theater, may its memory be a blessing. Until we were seven or so, we shared a room we had these adorable little kid beds that were arranged in a sideways U shape. We shared our books, the movies we watched and the times our mom read Harry Potter to us while we all sat on the sofa, listening with rapt attention.
But at some point we started to become defined by what we didn’t share. I mean, from the start our parents made sure we didn’t dress the same way (as adorable as three tiny triplets all dressed in plaid would be). During our first few years of school at Yeshivat Noam, we didn’t share classes, allowing us to grow and develop at our own paces. Eventually, our interests developed more and more, and we diverged from each other further. I became passionate about writing, Aliza grew fond of theater and Zachary became a master with computers. Still, we shared much in common—including, for a long time, our education. All three of us attended Ramaz, which allowed us to help each other through the culture shock and challenges of a completely new environment.
At Ramaz and elsewhere, we were somewhat defined by the fact that we were triplets—this stood out to everyone even in a grade with five or so sets of twins. (In fact, during Freshman Shabbaton, the teachers didn’t want us to participate in the “Twins Game” despite also being multiples, since they were worried we’d ruin the dynamic!) It certainly was an easy way to impress people as we got to know the students in our new grade and school! Yet we also each wanted to branch out and be known for who we were ourselves, to not just be known as “the triplets.” So we each ended up with our own sets of friends and repertoire of extracurricular activities, and they didn’t have a ton of crossover. But even so, we were still the “triplets”—we helped each other with homework, shared a decent number of classes and (it feels like just yesterday!) all suffered through the college application process together.
There were times when two of us would be mistaken for twins. For instance, often people would confuse Zachary and myself and think that we were the only siblings other times, I would be at a program like BIMA at Brandeis University with my sister and we’d have to introduce my brother to others through pictures and video chat. But I don’t ever remember a time where two of us, for whatever reason, pretended to be twins or an only child. We never hid the fact that we’re triplets—in fact, it’s something we’re all proud of and love to share.
But now, our paths are starting to diverge more than they ever have before.
Zachary has already begun college. In fact, last week I went to his college orientation and got to see a glimpse of his future: his classes, his dorm, the campus…not to mention, a ton of free ice cream, but I digress. It was a fun trip, to be sure, but it was also bittersweet to say goodbye. Not only will I not be seeing him again for over nine months (at least, right now I don’t plan on returning to America during my gap year in Israel), but it also meant that for the first time my siblings and I are not at the same level of our education as each other. Zachary will be a year ahead of my sister and me, because he chose not to take a gap year. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s strange for me to think that he’s already a freshman while for me and Aliza, college is in the mythical year of “2017.”
As for Aliza: She leaves for her seminary in Israel this coming Thursday (as of writing by the time you read this, she likely will have already left). She chose a very different program than the one I did, and she’ll be living a decent bit away from me (even in the relatively tiny country that is Israel). We’ll be having very different experiences during our gap years, and while we’ll likely see each other a lot during weekends at my aunt and uncle’s in Modiin, we’re still going to largely be apart from each other. That was inevitable—neither of us looked at coed programs—and to be fair, we’ll be at the same college next year. But imminently, we’re bidding each other adieu to some extent.
A week from tomorrow (again, as of writing), I’ll leave for Yeshivat Orayta on a group flight. I know a lot of people going there, and I’m excited to meet many others—but I won’t be with my siblings.
Of course, it will be nice for us to be fully independent from each other, to grow and experience life on our own. Yet I’ll miss my siblings’ warmth and joy and guidance. I’ll miss having two close friends I can always rely on I’ll miss the shared schools and ice creams and sodas.
But even if I and Aliza and Zachary are apart from each other in the world, we’ll always still be the Oppenheim triplets.
By Oren Oppenheim
