Do you, too, have a doppelganger? I met mine today. He didn’t repulse me so much as he did fascinate me.
I had expected a yang to my yin, or white to black, something startling…or something, well, at least my opposite. Surprisingly, the doppelganger was more of my twin. Same smile. Same laugh. Same self.
Only with more exposed.
Like an ear of corn with husks drawn down. Kernels—good and bad—exposed to the same sun. Some kernels plump and full of juicy corn milk. Beautiful, yellow and sweet. Some, however, riddled with rust or punctured by still present and writhing worms. Some withered and dry and some underdeveloped. All of these, the repulsive among the maturely developed, all part of the same ear of corn.
Unlike me, the doppelganger had not taken the time to draw up his husks, using bits of silken hair to hide flawed, balding spots. He was neither fully evil, nor fully good, but was rather both. Like me. Only exposed and accepting of it all.
As I wind my way through the local farmer’s market, I pause by the corn bin, just in from a southern farm. I am about to join the ritual of those surrounding the bin, of slightly peeling back cornhusks, peeking to select only the best to accept and take home. About to, when in a chance glimpse across the vegetable stand, I see him. My doppelganger. He smiles, knowingly. I reach back into the bin and select a half dozen ears of corn without checking their perfection. I smile back. To myself.