The Lady Stirs...

As I lay in the cottage in the early hours of the morning, the wind howling a bit through the open patio door, I’m worrying even now. Nothing is more peaceful than this place; my home is my sanctuary. Edward is next to me reading, my little girl is just down the hall, presumably asleep; everything is as it should be. And yet, I am riddled with anxiety. Can I not just enjoy life’s simplicities? Must I always wait for the proverbial other shoe to drop? Sometimes it is in the moments of purest happiness that I am the most frightened. For I have that much more to lose…

There are times when I feel like a broken record… There is nothing more meaningful to me, of more importance, than the only true loves I have in this earthly plane; my Edward and my darling Renesmee. They are my life. I would walk through the fires of Hell and lay down in the darkness of death, without hesitation, for either of their welfare. One might mock; question what possible danger our family or species might face. Are we not vampires? Are we not eternal; immortal?

A frown takes hold and my lips curl softly down as an unnecessary breath escapes as a sigh. While our kind may be virtually invincible, we are not totally without weakness. And that frightens me too… What might happen if we forgot, for one instant, that we have vulnerabilities? I fear, at times, my entire family takes this existence for granted… and someday it may cost us our lives. Even vampires are not indestructible. Our world is just as fragile as that of our human friends... perhaps even more so. Such a delicate balance we must keep... between hunger, want, love and duty...

I try to return to my own reading but letters and words, though neatly placed on the page, begin swimming as my thoughts drift further away from the story. The worn binding with its gold-leafed title, Romeo and Juliet, flickers in the low-light of my bedside table and the book sags slowly to my chest. Soon I am lost once more in my worries. What would become of me, was I to lose either of my angels? It is a thought I simply cannot bear.

As if a hand grips tightly around my still heart, angst weighs down what was previously a contented evening. Edward must have sensed my tension as his hand moves to touch my arm gently, now nearly warm against my own stone-like skin, and I glance up at him and smile. No need to drag his lovely face into this uneasiness.

Perhaps it is just my choice of reading material… that has me trudging up these fearful thoughts. I take the book, close it softly and place the tome neatly on the nightstand. I move closer to my husband, pushing his arm back and snuggle into that perfect place where I am nearly seamless against his body, my head on his chest and my hand lying still upon his heart. He brings his arm to wrap back around me, giving me a moment of reprieve in its safety.

This is where I belong… beside this man, watching our lovely little girl grow into a beautiful young woman. And were he to be no more, were he to meet some tragic end… I know I would be as Juliet, begging for a last poison kiss and ultimately finding my own happy dagger… That is my contingency plan...

I close my eyes, wishing desperately that dreams would come and take me, erasing these woeful thoughts and fears. But my mind whirls on in my worry and I lay quietly upon my husband’s chest, praying that these moments are not our last.