Life is my Music
My first memory is of being sung to sleep when I was about 4. My mother had sat with me that night because I felt ill. She stroked my hair with her hands, tough because of the work she did in the fields. And in that hazy feeling between sleep and concious, my mother began to sing the song that Katniss is singing to me right now. A single, fat tear rolls down my face.
When I was old enough to work and was sent to the fields, the first thing I heard was the mockingjay's song, the four note one that I had taught to Katniss, our secret code. I hadlearnt many tunes during my time in the field, some pretty and some haunting, but the four note melody means the most to me. One of the mockingjay's in the arena begins to sing it. I raise my eyes to look at Katniss.
When I was chosen for the Games, I had been taken to the Town Hall to say my goodbyes. Only my mother came, all the others had to work. We had collapsed onto the sofa in tears. I held her in my arms as she sobbed and stroked her hair, and I had sung to her. I say a silent goodbye for her now.
And now, with the blackness closing in, my thoughts turn to Katniss. Clever, kind Katniss. I cough, I can't breathe, but I know that dying is inevitable and I close my eyes.
I hope there's music in heaven.