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.
I'm keeping things short and sweet, so thank you for all the kind words…
On we go…
-Leslie
December 12, 1996
Dear Bean;
I suppose Bean should go, since we've been made aware of what sex you are, but Bean will suffice for now, since we've not decided on your name as of yet.
I'll let you in on a secret though; your father is stuck on the name Abigail. I do love the name; however I think for short, we'll be calling you Abby. It's so wonderful how much love your father and I have for you right now, and it will only continue to grow, no doubt.
Your father was so adorable when he stuck his bottom lip out and pouted, determined to have our daughter named Abigail. I might have put my finger to my chin in thought, making it seem as though I was up in the air about this decision. Don't tell him, but I secretly loved the name and how he was unwavering. There's nothing like getting to see that pouty face of his, it gives me butterflies to this day.
Now to one of my most cherished memories.
This was the day that I had brought him home to meet my parents. He was such a nervous wreck. Hands wringing wet from sweat, a furrow in his brows, the way he stumbled up the steps to the overly-sized house on the hill. There was only one word for him, a mess; that he was.
Here he was, face to face with a politician. Your grandfather was a well-respected man in our community, one who would to any length to better his country. Then there was your grandmother; the ever-strange hippie. How those two worked was beyond me, but they are still going strong today.
It was such a day filled with laughter.
Your father, ever the confident man that he is, seemed to revert back to a gangly teenage boy. I can imagine it as if it was yesterday, which only makes me shake my head in laughter as I write this.
My father was a man on a mission, one to prove that no man was good enough for his daughter. I did, however, warn your father beforehand, so he did have fair warning.
You're grandfather always had an obsession with guns, any type, so he made show of cleaning his guns in his study when we went to greet him and allow myself to introduce your father. Before my father had looked up from his hobby, you dad stifled a gasp, but quickly regained his composure.
As I had then dragged your dad into the room, he marched right up to your grandfather's desk and all but demanded attention. Once my father laid his gun of choice down, he looked upon your dad with disdain at first, and then something must have registered with just one look in the eyes of your dad.
Your dad cleared his throat and all but told your grandfather that he had better swallow his pride because he was the man who would forever have my heart. He declared to him that day, upon first meeting, that he would be married to his only daughter soon.
For ten minutes, he stood stock-still, daring your grandfather to say anything negative about our relationship. By the end of the night, your dad had the respect that he deserved when it came to how your grandfather had seen him and our relationship.
I had never been more proud of your father than in that moment, as we left the over-sized house that no longer felt like my home. My home was with the man who stood up to my father like a real man should.
A word of wisdom, sweet child: Stand up for what you believe in, no matter what, nor who isn't standing up with you. You'll be a better person for living your life for what you believe in.
Love,
Momma
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