Dear Bella,

It's been twelve years now, and Bo has been coming with me to visit you. She has so many questions and I don't always have the answers. You would have been perfect at this; you had an answer for everything, you were my walking encyclopedia- even if I sometimes wondered over the validation of some of your answers. She's like you in that way. She questions everything I say to her, more often than not answering herself before I am given a chance.

We no longer eat broccoli because of that, she was able to convince herself we had no need for its nutritional value if neither of us liked the taste of it and could replace it with something yummier. We substituted asparagus for a while as our green. That was until I put my foot in my mouth by joking with her that it made your pee stink. Asparagus is no longer welcome, and we now have a pastel purple disc in our toilet just in case. This way, our pee will smell like lavender instead.

That is our new color, by the way. The lace tablecloth that was your grandmother's has been put away since we started to utilize the table. It has been various shades of the rainbow; this time a plum color with a slightly lighter shade for the placemats. I can't tell you how many times we have painted her room. Every time I get disgruntled over moving that heavy dresser that used to be yours, I remember that this won't last forever. In a few more years, she won't be living with me, and I will have no one to order me about. Your father dotes on her, every time I paint, he comes, bearing a coordinating bed set and lampshade for her.

One thing I can't deny that she got from me is her compulsive tendencies. From first grade on, she has never missed a day of school. Last month she had a fever, and I tried to put my foot down, she stared me down, took a swig of Day-Quill straight from the bottle, threw her bag over her shoulder and called out goodbye on her way out the door. She is determined to get that perfect attendance certificate and has often criticized me for letting her miss so much kindergarten; I was the parent, after all, something I seem to have to remind her of more often than not.

Mom has slowly gotten worse, and I finally had to break down and move her into a special home that is more equipped than me at dealing with dementia. She call's Bo by your name, and often she sees my father when looking at me. Bo is so understanding, mature beyond her years when dealing with my mother. I shouldn't say it like that, as if she is an inconvenience. My mother stepped in to play the mother role for Bo in ways that I couldn't when she was young. Now that she is almost a teen, and I am extremely concerned as to what I am going to have to handle on my own. Charlie is as clueless as me, if not more so, even though he raised you on his own.

Your mother sends Bo a card once a year for her birthday, and it's always two to three weeks late. The signed check for twenty-five dollars never fails to appear inside. There are no calls, and she has yet to visit your graveside, and that's okay. I don't think I could cope with someone's fake tears, pretending to mourn over the person that was, and is still, my entire world- though now that also includes Bo. As we speak, the walls are shaking from the base of the newest boy band obsession. Your mother's money went toward the soundtrack.

I am ever so grateful for that.

A new trick we have learned is slamming our door; also, a one-piece swimsuit is no longer accepted in this house apparently, so I relented and allowed her to buy the two-piece one she had her eye on. I must admit, I appreciated the high top and that the bottoms looked like shorts rather than the skimpier versions I saw in that same damn purple zebra print she just had to have.

Bella, it is dark and light purple zebra print. Enough said.

The next day we went to the beach to try it out. As I'm chipmunked cheeked and turning red while blowing up a unicorn floaty that is taller than me, I glance up and see a boy talking to her. His hand reaches up and combs through his hair, grinning like he has something to offer the world, more specifically, Bo. I have never run so fast in my life, calling out to Bo while waving the swimsuit cover-up over my head at her, one that I insisted she buy.

Apparently, that wasn't the correct course of action on my part.

She demanded I bring her home immediately, and gave me the silent treatment the entire way, ending it with a door slammed in my face while I chased after her- begging for her to talk to me. This also made me realize I have never made her fear me. If anything, I am the one to get grounded, not the other way around.

I banged on the door and demanded she unlock it, then pleaded, and even asked nicely. Finally, I walked away and ordered her favorite pizza, and when she came out to eat, I was the one to apologize. To this day, I am still not sure how that happened.

I love you, forever.

Love,

Your Edward

Chapter 8 is next and by far my favorite yet! I am so excited for you to all read it next week :D Thank you Fran, Steph, and Dawn for your ears and help!