Becoming Bella

A worn journal lay discarded at the back of my dresser drawer, half hidden beneath a heap of socks. I pulled it out from its forgotten cavern, thumbing absently through pages upon pages of familiar strokes. This book was once the story of my life, summed up and packaged quite ornately in a tattered leather tome. And here it rested, abandoned; an outpouring of my words that held very little value now. The last dated entry was prior to my homecoming in Forks, which was clearly before my life actually began. This book was an autobiography of a girl who no longer existed. Nothing before Edward even mattered; those memories were muddled and unimportant. She was dead... and quite frankly, I didn't miss her in the least. It wasn’t until I returned to Forks that I became Bella; before coming home to this weepy-skied town, I was a shell…an empty drone existing without a purpose.

So, I was born in Forks, only to return there to die… and then be truly born again, finally becoming his Bella. My soul was conceived at the moment in which I first took Edward in with my eyes. He captivated me and I was simply bewitched from that moment forward. Had I been more than just a stupid mortal, I would have known from that instant that there was no other path for me than to be at his side. But it wasn’t until the day that our lips first met that he breathed life into my being and I realized how dead I had really been.

Edward once said that I was exceptionally unobservant… I think that was certainly the case before. I could never have imagined I’d discover a grandeur scheme in Washington; I never believed there was a place for me in this or any other world… I only left Phoenix with the intention of releasing Renée of her burden. But as it turned out I was destined for so much more… I had no inkling that I was fated to find my place in a fairy tale alongside a knight in shining armor. Knowing life as I do now, the words sealed within this book were merely that. Just words; of no consequence and even less comprehension.

I slid the drawer closed, journal in hand, and ventured towards the door of our bedroom. Edward lay sprawled across the bed, seemingly engrossed in reading of his own. I glanced back at my knight and helplessly smiled; he looked up from his own pages to meet my gaze and quickly narrowed his eyes in obvious wonder as to what I might be thinking. With a wrinkle of my nose and a gentle shake of my head, I attempted to quell his concern. I smiled, enjoying our inaudible conversation, and gestured with my hands, encouraging him to continue on with his thoughts without interruption. I turned on my heel, heading through the jamb, down the hall and out into the parlor.

Sitting upon our hearth, I enjoyed the warmth it offered on a cool and rainy morning; a low-burning fire crackling quietly within. I looked down at this journal, the leather soft against my palm and turned it over in my hand. The pages fluttered, releasing a photograph that floated to the floor. I bent to retrieve it, in an instant knowing the memory that it captured. It was the photograph of Edward… taken in Charlie’s kitchen on my birthday a few years before. A familiar pain clenched my chest and for an instant, I was thrown back in time; engulfed in the desperation and fear of an existence without my Edward. It was a time worse than any death imaginable.

Briefly lost in my thoughts, I did not hear Edward approach. He tenderly took the photo from my hand, inquisitive, and upon seeing it his smile turned stoic. His handsome face was blemished with torment as he absorbed the memory himself. My eyes averted, not able to bare his anguish; I looked first to the flames and then slowly back to his face. He was solemn now and ashamed, knowing the darkness where this picture and its linked emotions had just taken me. I stood quickly, removing the photo from between his long, slender fingers and tucked it safely in my pocket. And without a further thought, I tossed the journal into the fire. He looked at me as the pages erupted into flame, eyes a bit bewildered, and I placed my hands on either side of his face.

“I don’t want to remember what came before you. And, God forbid, I should ever be forced to know what might come after,” I stated. “There is nothing in this world for me if not you, if not for our forever. And I don’t regret a millisecond of any happening that brought us to this point.” I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. He begrudgingly responded and, mildly frustrated, I pulled away to further reiterate my point. “THIS,” I looked around our cottage, at the physical things that emphasized the life we were blessed to be living, and I pointedly glanced down the hall towards Renesmee’s room, where she lie napping. “THIS is worth it all. And then some.”

Edward’s eyes softened and the hurt drained from his face. He took me in his arms and I was both lost and found in the same instant. There was nothing but now, but the two of us, and it was more than I could have ever imagined it to be. It was another perfect piece of forever.