Butterflies In A Bottle

At some point I will get my life back. At some point my toilets will sparkle again, my girls' clothes will match, they will have clean socks. At some point, my hubby won't have to go to work and "scrounge for food" (his words), since the fridge is empty. I will be able to recognize myself in the mirror, the dark circles under my eyes vanished, because sleep is a priority again. At some point I will finish Breaking Dawn. I only have two hundred pages to go.

I'm not even getting the freak out that I usually get when I'm drawing to the close of a good book. And let me tell you, this has been a good book. A good four books. I think I'm not getting the freak out, because I actually need a break. I'm actually starting to resemble a vampire.

I can't even remember the last time I've been sucked into a book (or four) like this. Consumed. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I'm late jumping on the Twilight bandwagon and haven't had to wait for the next book to come out. I've had the next one just waiting for me (thanks to my Twilight consumed sister), so that I can just continue on. And thank goodness for that. I don't know how y'all actually waited for the next book to come out, back when all of the Twilight madness began. I would be pulling my hair out. I would not be fun.

I went to the doctor on Monday and when I walked into the exam room, the nurse said, "Oh, you're one of those Twilight people too." She noticed that I was carrying (cradling) Breaking Dawn. These books go everywhere with me. They are like my third child. I'm afraid to leave them alone. Someone might take them. And I don't want to waste any precious minutes of free time I may suddenly come across. Sometimes those red lights are long.

I find out the nurse is into them too. She's on her second go around of reading them. What is up with these books? You cannot read them once. My sister has read them like four times. All of them. She was starting to get the shakes when I held on to them a little too long. She even mentioned something about how her lending them to me is just like the library. There's a time limit. A due date. She was sending me text messages...little reminders to get them back to her. Now.

I'm not even into vampires! I didn't do the whole Anne Rice bit. Back when I thought Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt were The Bomb, I didn't get into Interview with a Vampire. Seeing them all pasty and fangy and long hair-ed did absolutely nothing for me. So I don't know what has come over with me with these books. But I've been thinking about it.

I think it's the love story. The whole love conquers all bit. The idea that you become so wrapped up in one person that not only does the room fall away when you see them, but the world. That absolutely nothing could keep you apart. Not even if one of you is a vampire. I mean, that's some huge stuff to get past.

I am truly a romantic--in my head. Sixteen years together with the same mortal (like how I snuck that in?), I miss how the earth would jolt when he walked in the room. The butterflies. That intense not only want, but need to be with that person. You know, the counting down the seconds until you see them again. Everything is so exciting--it truly is like the world revolves around just the two of you. I miss that feeling.

I have to remind myself of things now, after a mortgage, two busy kiddos, the routine that settles in. Make an effort and all. Holding hands. Weekend getaways. Deployments. We have our moments. And I still count down seconds until I see him again--see him walk in the door and relieve me of the kiddos for ten minutes. It's different. Not bad, just different. I loves my mortal. I'm kind of, sort of, yes, yes I am, used to him and he can handle me, but I have really thought how they should really try to invent that feeling. Butterflies in a bottle. Make them into pretty little pink pills. I'd buy that.

And this love in Twilight is something. A century in the making. He waited for her. (siiigh). Kind of like in The Notebook (another favorite) where he builds a house for her. He builds a house for her! That is so, so, so romantic (I'm gonna have to watch that today now). Years go by and he is still waiting for her. (siiigh)

And I don't know if I'd want to be immortal just to be with the man (vampire) I love. I don't want to live forever (despite how cute my hubbs is)...here. I've got bigger and better plans. But it's a nice thought. Again, romantic. Good fiction. Good writing, Stephenie Meyer. I pretend I have some sort of connection with her, because she went to BYU (I know people that went there) and she lives in Arizona (I grew up there). Because she based the book in Washington (which might as well be Oregon) and in the movie shows places I've been to before, or could drive to in three hours. And I'm a writer (i joke)--we have a certain kinship, Stephenie and I. I like to live in my imagination too. Maybe that's why that love story is so dang good...it's not real. Most of us don't have that. We have something good. Something close. We yearn for someone to look at us like that. To count our heartbeats.

Maybe you do have this. Really? You look at each other like that every single time after ten years, twenty? You'd become a vampire? You should write a book. Tell me more about it. I'm a sucker for these things, if you haven't noticed.