I in no way own the Hunger Games; I am just a mere fan, who in no way could let go of this fantastic series.
Today is his seventh birthday and instead of a gift, he has asked for an explanation. He wants to know: Why Gale? Where did this name, his name come from? I've dreaded this day for a while now. I knew it was coming, felt it coming. I know I must tell him, I hug him and whisper quietly into his ear, "before bed." He smiles and kisses my cheek before running off with his friends; they are all together in the meadow, running and playing, enjoying their day, his day. I watch, trying to smile, but I can't. It's too hard to feel anything but sadness as I stare at these naïve and innocent children. They run without worry; these children don't know that where they play is a graveyard. I can't bring myself to tell them, but I know in time they will know. They'll learn it in school, they'll know of the rebels and the war that brought this worry free world.
The day ends quickly from there.
Before I know it, it's time to tuck him in; he greets me with pure excitement. He quickly rushes into bed. Fastening himself under his blanket, I softly tuck the blanket around him, he smiles eagerly. I sigh and quietly let out, "let me tell you a story, you'll find your answer there."
"I'm in the woods in search for food, inspired by hunger. The day is fairly quiet, no real meat lies prey for me. I knew going into this, that I may fail, but I had to try, I had to do this. My sister, my mother, they were hungry, they needed me, they needed this food. I refused to go home and decide to venture farther into the woods. I'm trying to shoot a squirrel when I come across a snare, a trap of some sort. Impressed by the art, I walk closer, examining the handy work. I've tried before to make these same traps, only to fail. It's as soon as I touch one when I hear the voice that forces me turn around, 'stealing is punishable by law you know?' I know him, I think for a second... and there it is, he too lost his father in the same mine explosion that took my father. I don't remember his name, but I know this boy. He also received a medal for his loss. We talk and before I know it, we are hunting together; we have formed a sort of partnership, a silent agreement. We get close and before I know it he is my only friend, besides my sister, he is the only one I can truly talk to. He knows me and I know him. He'd do anything for me as I would for him. I will never forget this boy, my first friend, my first love, Gale Hawthorne." I stop, allowing him to register my story.
He is silent at first, but curiosity forces him to ask, "But don't you love daddy?"
I smile, "of course I do and that is why I am with him and is why you are here. You're not made to love one, but many. Who you end up with though is all up to you. And your father, well I can't survive without him. In time you will understand this, but for now, my child, sleep tight. " I kiss his forehead and head for the door.
"Mommy, I love you." I turn to see him curled up and drifting asleep.
I take time to remember this, to remember that all the bad that I've gone through was for this, for a brighter future, and a greater life. For my children who I love.