You know that feeling of Christmas? That feeling of absolute bliss you feel for no apparent reason? It was one of my favorite things in the world.

At the Cullen house we piled on the holiday cheer. This was the one time of the year where Esme allowed herself to be cliché. Carlisle was always ecstatic those two days. When he was an intern at the hospital and lower down on the food chain, he would be forced to work those days; it was the only part of being a doctor he's ever not enjoyed.

I had all my presents for my adoptive parents stashed under the tree. Mine were more Martha Stewart wrapped than Esme's which, lemme tell you, is saying a lot. Because Esme loves that kinda stuuf. But I really liked to wrap things. I don't know why, it was just sort of calming in a sense, and the finished product always looked fantastic.

The three of us all spoiled each other immensely for the holiday. There were over 40 presents under the tree, and luckily, we got a big tree this year. . .

It was the 24th and our house even smelt like Christmas. Esme had bought some pine needle candles just so the whole house smelled like one gigantic Christmas tree. Every time I took a large breath I smiled to myself.

Esme was off in the kitchen staring the roast beef down to make sure it was cooking the exact way she wanted it to. Carlisle, on the other hand, was finishing the wrapping of his gifts and sneaking them under the tree. For his sake we didn't comment and pretended not to notice. He still thought he was getting away with it. . .

I, on the other hand, was sprawled across the couch in my bedroom next to the floor, staring up at the ceiling windows. There was a perfect snow fall coming down softly, but it was still the big, beautiful, fluffy flakes

I propped myself up on my left elbow and flipped open my 10 cent red notebook, clicking on the pen I was lightly chewing on. I had decided that mail was too slow to wait for each one of the Sergeants replies. I hoped he didn't feel under any obligation to write back to me the second he got the letter though. I really preferred that he worried about staying alive.

Long story short, I think he liked my letter so I was going to write more.

Edward was spending his Christmas in Iraq in the desert. Even though he said he didn't have much family, I figured he probably was still missing the normality of Christmas. I was trying to spread cheer. I hoped it would make him sad. . .

Dear Edward,

Merry Christmas! You probably won't get this until the New Year but you've become my diary. Lucky you.

Do you ever miss high school? Oh man, I sure won't when I graduate. Remember the dance I was telling you about in my other letter? And how I was extremely amused by the royalty? Well, you are now corresponding with the Ice Queen. I even have a tiara. They made us dance to Forever Young like Napoleon Dynamite. I'm not even going to say more on the subject.

Carlisle and Esme (my adoptive parents) are off doing some last minute Christmas things so I'm up in my room. Carlisle is wrapping our presents, because he always waits until the last minute. . .do all men do that? Esme is cooking our roast and refuses to let me help with anything. Though I really can't cook too well, so it's completely understandable.

After they finish that we'll have to get ready to go to mass. I'm still grateful that I was adopted into a family that shares my same beliefs. Though they are the most accepting people it probably wouldn't have made a difference in the slightest either way.

It's snowing at the moment. You grew up in Chicago you said, so you've obviously seen snow. It's coming down softly right now, just coating the ground with giant fluffy flakes. I don't understand how people could be so grumpy about it. I mean, sure it makes the roads icy and it isn't fun to shovel, but it is one of the most beautiful things that I've witnessed.

It really irritates me when people have their heads so far up their asses that they can't look around and appreciate the natural beauties of our daily life. When the sun sets over the lake at our cabin, it's absolutely gorgeous. And the starry sky at night, away from the city lights, when you look up it feels like you're in a painting. And big fluffy white flakes falling on Christmas Eve. I live for those moments.

Do you ever find beauty where you are? Sites that just take your breath away? I'd imagine that might be difficult where you're at. But beauty lies everywhere on the earth, including Iraq.

What is life like where you are? I want to know everything. Write it all down and send me it whenever you can. I'd love to have a better sense of what the men of our country really do go through, good and bad. You and the men with you are the bravest people on this earth, and I hope you all realize that.

My life isn't that interesting at all, but I guess if I'm asking you to tell me everything about your life I should tell you about mine. Not that it's remotely interesting at all.

You already know the basics that I told you. I was adopted by Carlisle and Esme Cullen when I was 14 years old, right before I was supposed to start high school. I lived in Ohio, that's where I grew up. My parents died when I was 13, right after I finished 7th grade. I went to orphanage, though it wasn't a shady dark one. It was okay.

Carlisle was in the state, giving a presentation to the local hospital and visited the orphanage. We talked a little bit and I warmed up to him. The summer before 9th grade him and his wife signed the adoption papers.

They are upper class citizens and we have a larger than necessary house but I don't want you to form judgments about them. The two of them are the best people you could ever meet. And they hate how people assume they're self righteous. . .though they do often mock those type of people.

My best friend is Rosalie, she complains about everything from the color of a wall to global warming. She's about as sarcastic as me, which trust me, is saying something. We both are on the soccer and golf team. OH, and she hates blond jokes. I guess they are, quote, "ridiculous and a stereotypical approach of mocking women with the most beautiful color of hair in existence." Rose is just the tiniest bit vain. . .

Then there's Elliot. He's my fake boyfriend.

And that's pretty much it for important people in my life. I'm nice to most students at my school so I consider them friends and vice versa, though silently I can't stand most people. I'm not exactly the most tolerant person and it takes awhile for me to warm up to someone and put up with the annoying little things that I notice when I first meet them. Yeah. . .make of that what you will, I suppose.

Okay, here are some random things that are not relevant about me at all and I have no clue why I am writing them down. I don't like feet. My feet are fine but other people's feet just gross me out. I am the best water skier ever to ski the waters. When I was 12 I had a crush on my 6th grade teacher; he was a very attractive man. I don't like America's Funniest Videos, the show just irritates me. And I hate black nail polish. . .because I know you were curious.

Some relevant things about me that could actually be points of interest are, my favorite album is the self titled Boys Like Girls album, but it feels like I'm from the 80's, so therefore my iPod is completely full of everything from Boy George to Joan Jett. Like I said before, I'm on the varsity golf team, Rose and I are captains, and next year I'll be the captain of the soccer team. My favorite television shows are American Idol and House (if you hadn't got that from the box I sent you). I'm also a history nut. My favorite book. . .I don't really know actually. I can tell you that I'm not a huge fan of any of the classics; I tried to read them when I was younger and it just left me bitter that I couldn't understand them.

I hope life is good for you where you are right now. Carlisle's done with presents so I'm off to church. I'll say an extra prayer for you and your squad.

'Till later,

Bella

I smiled to myself before carefully tearing out the page that was written on both the front and back. I hopped off the couch and went over to my desk to grab an envelope. I carefully wrote down the address and his name before sliding the paper gently into it. I sealed it shut, setting it down and going over to my closet.

My closet wasn't as typical as you would think. I was not a spoiled little rich girl. I had boundaries and so did Carlisle and Esme. I made money from babysitting and other various jobs, and I used that money to buy the things that I wanted. Both of them would give me some money if I asked, but what's the point? I didn't need 13 pairs of high heels; no one did.

I grabbed a knee length sweater dress that Esme had gotten me last Christmas and put it on. "Are we going to do the matching thing again?" Esme hollered from somewhere down the hall.

"I'm wearing purple," I called back as I smoothed the dress over my body. It was long sleeved and would look good with Esme's black high heel boots. She called them her hooker boots but I thought they were pretty tasteful. . .okay, well not entirely.

"We'll coordinate then!" she responded cheerfully before I heard her disappear into her bedroom.

Turns out we were pretty damn coordinated. Esme let me borrow her boots, and then she wore a white pretty shirt with business black slacks and smaller black boots. Here's the amusing part; she made Carlisle wear a tie identical to the color to my dress with a white shirt and a black sports jacket.

"No wonder some people didn't like us. We looked like a flippin' Macy's add," I pointed out as we went to grab our coats. The sun had already set in the half hour which we had taken to get ready.

"They don't hate, they appreciate," Esme countered with a coy grin.

Carlisle made it a point to roll his eyes over dramatically. "Whatever you say sweetie, come on, let's go we, don't want to miss another of Father Peter's ever exciting sermons." I chuckled. Father Peter. . .oh that man.

"Wait, don't you think we should get a picture? I mean, this year I actually have a resolution to do some more scrap-booking. It's not like I don't scrapbook at all it's just kind of rare, you know–" Carlisle cut off Esme's strange ramble by helping her into the Escalade and shutting the door.

"She's not drunk, is she?" I asked as I caught up to them in the freezing garage.

"I don't think so, but who knows how much wine she had while starring at that damn roast," he responded with a sigh. I rolled my eyes as he opened the back car door for me.

"Just don't let Father Peter notice," I grinned back at him before he shut the door and shook his head with a full blown smirk.

Church was a beautiful service as usual. Our church went all out for the three masses they had for the holiday. The reason we all laughed at the mention of Father Peter was because he was a very young priest who thought he knew everything. His homilies never really made any sense, and they were extremely hard to follow. I mean, one minute he's talking about a rabbit, then the beach before he's talking about a wagon and then some turtles.

When we got home, Esme made us take a picture by the giant Christmas tree. It was actually a cute picture with Carlisle in the middle of us, bringing the whole purple, white, and black deal together.

Esme's cooking was amazing, if that hadn't already been made clear. It was such a Christmas meal that I fell in love. And for her gourmet dessert, we had the sugar cookies that we frosted earlier that morning. They were still so fresh and delicious. We only made them once a year because otherwise the three of us all gained like 5 pounds from the treats.

"What are you doing?" I asked while biting into my bright pink bell cookie. Carlisle was getting out of his chair and putting some more cookies onto a small decorative plate.

"Putting cookies out for Santa," he grinned, still stocking the plate full. I think he was about to a dozen by now.

"Bullshit!" I complained, "what a lame answer. It means that you will sneak downstairs at 2 AM on Christmas to eat your weight in sugar cookies."

"That's a relevant objection. . ." Esme agreed. Carlisle frowned, looked at the stack of cookies he was going to set out and sighed sadly.

He took this as an opportunity to add in a little fun fact that he had learned probably at medical school. "Technically it's impossible to eat your weight in something. Your stomach would–"

"You would try," I cut him off.

"Besides the point. . ." he complained.

"It is not beside the point! It's exactly the original point that I was trying to make in the first place," I argued exasperatedly. Esme leaned back in her chair with a glass of wine and a smirk on her lips.

"Actually I was referring to the point that I was trying to make. You interrupted, therefore, what you said was literally beside the point," Carlisle contradicted, going all smart ass on me.

"It can't be beside the point when I was trying to return back to the point I was making before you interrupted," I argued with him.

Esme cleared her throat softly looking thoroughly confused. She held up a finger while her eyebrows furrowed, "Um, what?"

"Never mind, this is all irrelevant anyways," I apologized sheepishly, picking up the bright pink cookie to resume eating. Carlisle agreed remorsefully after he sat back down at the table.

We cleared the table after we were all extremely full. After the dishes were in the dish washer I started to head behind Esme to the living room where the tree and presents were.

I glanced back, ready to call Carlisle when I noticed what he was doing. He was placing the huge stack of cookies in the highest cabinet where neither Esme nor I could reach without a stool.

"Unbelievable!" I glared at the stash of goodies while Carlisle whipped around.

"If you don't tell Es I'll share the stash with you," he offered with a pleading smile. I rolled my eyes and lost the playful glare.

"Fine. But if it isn't evenly shared I'm going to ask Esme to make Mexican food every day of the week." Carlisle hated Mexican food. Like if he had a list of 100 dislikes, Mexican food would be 17, right before the nurses at his hospital.

"Fair enough," he agreed in defeat. I smirked before turning and rushing to keep up with Esme. Carlisle was right behind me, neither of us wanting to tip her off on what had just transpired.

We were a very competitive family.

On Christmas Eve we each got to open one present and save the rest for tomorrow morning. Esme started it after I came and suggested it. It was like the thrill of waiting for Santa Clause to come. It was like the saying, life is about the journey.

Well not really like that saying at all, actually.

I'm trying to say that it prolonged the excitement of not knowing what you're going to get. Yeah. That was it.

The present I picked to open was from Esme because it looked fairly harmless. Carlisle opened one of Esme's as well and Esme grabbed the box where I had wrapped a handmade jewelry box that I had bought at an art fair last summer.

Esme had gotten me a bikini that was really cute. I had no idea where she found a store that sold swimsuits in the middle of December, but I loved it regardless. It was teal with light green and some dark pinks all swirled together in one of those vintage design patterns. She got Carlisle a really nice silk tie.

After we were changed out of our coordinating clothes we went back downstairs and followed tradition. I put the two Santa Clause movies in the player (the Tim Allen ones) while Esme whipped up egg nog and we sat around and watched the movies until midnight when we finally went to sleep.

The next morning, Christmas morning we all went downstairs and did the typical American thing of ripping open presents. I was sitting with my various gifts surrounding me and a giant beam on my face when Carlisle stood up and told me he was going to get my last present.

I hoped it was a puppy.

Esme rolled her eyes and opened the perfume that Carlisle had given her to sniff it. That was another thing about Carlisle and gifts; he normally got me and Esme very similar stuff. I got the same type of perfume in a different smell, just like the set of nail polishes and gift cards to the same places.

Carlisle walked back in the room, still wearing his flannel black pajama pants and white t-shirt. Something was hidden behind his back. I straightened up and tried to see what it was.

Grinning, Carlisle revealed what he was hiding. I broke out into a huge grin as I saw the new shiny silver club. It was a golf driver that I had been looking at for weeks at the pro shop. I was so excited I leaped up and hugged him anxiously.

Carlisle laughed as he hugged me back and handed me the club. He had even gotten a hot pink grip that matched my putter.

"It feels perfect," I beamed as I tested out the grip and weight of the club, even though I'd tried it out so many times that it wasn't a surprise. "When can we go to the Sky Dome?"

The Sky Dome was like a giant white bubble. It was opened mostly in the golf off-season and was basically an indoor driving range. I went at least once a week for a couple of hours to hit a bucket of balls. They also had a pro shop where my new driver lived for the previous part of its life.

"They wouldn't really open it on Christmas would they?" Esme sighed exasperatedly. She golfed just like Carlisle and I and she was extremely supportive to it, but she always commented about how our family should be just a little more rounded.

"Movie theaters are open today," I said matter-of-factly with a shrug as I took another small cautious swing.

Esme huffed quietly and gave us both a stern look, "Let me rephrase that: no Dome today." I rolled my eyes and hugged Carlisle again. I thanked them both for the extensive amount of presents that I didn't need at all.

As I was tiding up the wrapping paper, idly I wondered if Edward and his unit got my package in time for the holiday. Or any other packages for that matter.


Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
Our troubles will be miles away.

Through the years
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.
-Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas


-So, not much happening in this chapter; sorry. But I'm thinking I'll update sooner because I feel a little bad. But you gotta plead with SimplyDazzling (my oh so lovely beta) to get the chapter edited!
-This is the third letter Bella's written to Edward, NOT the second!
-Edward misses you all. Alice is ready to say hi next chapter!
-As always, lemme know what ya think!(: