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I stay, watching the incessant rhythm of the waves.
They come near me, dying on the sand, broken in white foam, trying to reach my bare feet.
I don't move.
I can taste the salt on my lips, echoing the tears at the corner of my eyes.
I'm crouching, watching the water come and go, an eternal renewal.
They never tire, the waves, they still try to reach the higher grounds, still try to get over the beach, over the sand, over the dunes, still try to get to the earth behind.
Or maybe, they don't.
Maybe, they like this never ending dance with the rocks, passing over them, until grain after grain, it becomes sand.
I don't know.
I don't know if the sand my toes are touching is only sand, or if it's mixed with the ashes of my family.
I put my right hand into the sand, just to feel it. Feel.
The seagulls sing their melancholic ballad to the clouds, trying to make the sun come out.
They won't succeed.
Today is for mourning. It's been four years.
The cold of the wind tries to break through my scarf, my coat, tries to get to me.
I only allow him to play with my hair - like when I was a little girl.
But I'm a woman now.
Today is for mourning.
Tomorrow will be for celebrating.
I clutch the dandelion Peeta gave me a couple of minutes ago in my left hand. I know he's waiting for me, even though I told him not to.
Because that's who he is.
Caring.
When more time has gone, I finally stand.
Today is for mourning, today is for the gray skies, for the salt on my cheeks.
But only today.
Tomorrow, even if the sky is cloudy, even if the rain falls, we'll celebrate life.
Tomorrow and every day after.
Together.
Always.