Disclaimer: These characters belong to S. Meyer; I just use them for my vivid imagination on the short bus.
All chapters are pre-written, so there are no edits done by a beta. All errors are my own.
Hey you! Yes, you. You're amazing and send the most humbling words of support. I'm truly blessed to have you all in my corner.
On we go…
-Leslie
October 24, 1996
Dear Baby Bean;
Once again, it's your proud Papa.
You, my sweet child, will blessed with a life full of love. As long as you remember that you will always have an endless amount of family surrounding you, ones who love you more than life, you'll grow to be an amazing individual.
I'm such a proud man right now, and that's all thanks to your wonderful mother. She has given me a gift that I could never thank her enough for. Just knowing that you're growing strong within her womb at this moment, well, it makes me a happy man. I hope by the time you can understand these words that you have experienced endless amounts of my pride for you.
Now the time comes for me to share another story. A story that one day you'll enjoy and cherish.
This story is about the day I asked your mother to marry me.
I had spent countless night watching her sleep, nestled up in my arms at night. Her hair, the way it splayed out across my chest as she nuzzled there. Moments like this, where the moonlight peeked through the blinds and casted shadows against her face; those were the moments of her truest beauty. Gone were the pretenses of society; make-up, fashionable clothing, etc. When we were concealed within the walls of our apartment, her true beauty shined. Those nights filled with baggy sweats, my loose shirts, and no make-up.
Among those late nights spent watching her sleep, I dreamed of our lives together; of what the future had in store for us. It was there, in the soft moonlight, that I realized that I needed to ask this beautiful creature to marry, share our lives together until we were called home to be with the Lord.
Most men would spend countless hours on ways to make a grand gesture, but once the idea was in my head, it instantly clicked. I knew that the simplest thing would have her face lit with a brilliant smile; one that no other man would have the pleasure of witnessing.
The day, I awoke with high spirits and a bounce in my step. Your mother smiled amusingly at me throughout the day, not even having a clue as to why I was so happy. Once I had a few moments to myself, I called your grandmother and asked her to send your great, great, great grandmother's engagement ring. It had been handed down throughout the family many times over, and if I knew my Bella, she would rather have something of sentimental value as to monetary value. With her graceful beauty came a pure heart; boundless and so full of love for all.
The very day the ring arrived; I packed a picnic lunch and took your mother to her thinking spot, as she liked to call it.
A short distance from the campus, a tiny meadow lay just off a beaten path. To the 'normal' person all they would see is trees and bushes, to those who like adventure; they would what lay beneath the surface of those trees. Your mother, ever the adventurer, did just that. Upon stumbling through the thicket of trees that day, she beamed and ran circles along the outer edges of the meadow. Her white summer dress flowed effortlessly against the wind as she danced along the blossoming flowers that day. This was just another example of your mothers true beauty; one that few could possibly understand.
There, in that meadow, surrounded by wild flowers, your mother declared it her thinking spot. Many times, there in spot, surrounding by all our books we would let the gentle air and aroma of the flowers fill our minds and allow us the atmosphere to fill our minds with the nonsense that we needed at the time. But fret not; we also went there to just soak in the day's nature when we just needed a break from reality.
During one of the summer months, when most of all students had returned home to their families, your mother and I resurrected a wooden swing from one of the trees on the outskirts of the meadow. You could swing and soak in all the beauty of the untainted meadow, tucked underneath a well shaded area. Yes, we had families to return home to, but we had always elected to stay for summer classes, keeping us well on way of accomplishing our dreams that much quicker.
It was there, on that old weathered swing, that I would ask your mother to marry me.
I remember that day so clearly. The sweet August air, sun tucked high away in the sky, and those pretty little flowers opened and showing their true colors for our eyes to witness. I all but demanded your mother to join me in our meadow that day, but honestly, demands were fruitless when it came to going there. We both enjoyed the privacy and freedom to be ourselves there, no pretenses whatsoever.
Again, the day was beautiful. The short walk to the meadow was filled with happiness as was every time going there. We filled the walk with ideal chatter, holding hands with goofy smiles on our faces. There was always something about the meadow that made the child in us come out to play. As we entered through the right side of the meadow, we paused for a second and inhaled the scent of the blossoming flowers.
Once we reach the middle of the meadow, I sat the picnic basket down, unfolded a blanket and lay it across the ground. I took your mother's hand then, and helped her to the ground. We shared a lunch of sandwiches, fruit, chips, and soda, still in our blissful states.
That afternoon, a gentle spray of rain overtook our peaceful bubble, but my Bella refused to let it deter us. She slowly packed the basket, then sprung to her feet in laughter, sprinting towards the swing with a faint yell of, "push me" flowing through the air.
My laughter met hers as I launched myself from the blanket, wiping beads of rain from my face in the process. Once I reach her spot, I gently began to push her. Her delightful squeals swelled my heart further.
The crescendo of rain was beyond us, causing me to stop the swings motions altogether. I grabbed the ring from my pocket before I stepped in front of your mother, confusion clearly on her face. There, on the outskirts of our meadow, I dropped to my knee, ready to give my heart completely. I cupped her cheek in my hand, running my thumb across her high cheek bone.
"Isabella," I had started, at which those beautiful tear-filled eyes erupted, flowing softly from her eyes.
"Edward," she had murmured, her lips trembling.
"Please sweet angel, marry me," I asked, conviction clear in my voice.
This is the moment our fairy tale life began, as she whispered softly, "yes, Edward."
So sweet child, I hope your life is nothing more than a fairy tale.
Love,
Papa
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