I wake to sea-green loneliness.

I'm crying and he's crying and I don't know what to do about either of us. The short arm of the clock barely pushes past seven and I am already wilting.

I don't understand today; his sea-foam eyes and bronze hair are too reminiscent and I am confused because the man I loved is the child in front of me now. I wait till the tidal wave crashes over him, leaving me treading water and him drowning. But that isn't what happens, no, he drinks a Capitol concoction and is turned young again. Or maybe it was loss of blood, or a fire. But no, those weren't it either. I am at a loss as to who is before me, a perfect physical blend of past and present. Though muddled, I resist clamping my palms to my ears to shut out his wailing, resist forcing my eyelids close to stanch the flow of my own tears.

Eventually I remember. Though his presence wrenches me back and forth between the old and the new, dreams and reality, it saves me.

My days are the same. Wake up, eat, feed, survive, sing, sleep, wake up, feed, eat, survive, sing, sleep, repeat. I mostly like the routine, except for the surviving, the long stretches of silence and mechanical motions that long ago I all but lost the motivation to continue. But then there are those lovely little beats of time throughout the day that make it all worth it, like a sea turtle sunning itself in hellishly hot sand - those moments with him.

I adore him. Even on the days I forget who I am he is there cooing and clutching to my shirt front, little fists curled into the material soaked with saltwater from the air and from our eyes. His little heartbeat thumps against mine in an inexplicable pas de deux between mother and son and it makes me cry because this little boy is the only thing tying me to the earth still. Nevertheless, there are times where the sight of him makes me lose all grips on reality.

I am no longer simply the mad girl from District 4. First I am the sad, widowed, single mother, then the mad girl. It doesn't sound any better but it is, it's purposeful. It's exactly what I need.

This morning I find the motivation to bring him with me to the most sacred place on earth. The sun grazes the horizon, gently tipping the scale of night and day with the moon which still sinks behind me. I cannot breathe as the great and terrible memories resurface.

I am thoroughly unprepared for a venture such as this - planning is something his father would has ensured but all I have left of him is sea-green and bronze; they surround me on the shore. Instead I sail on a whim with the desire to see him with his hair and his eyes and his cheeks sitting on the shore. Bu now I've forgotten the real reason I'm here...

We make it, and I manage to drop the old net into his lap before I collapse, unable to take one step further through that sand, the beige crystals underfoot taunting with the vast expanse of ocean in front of me, something that I could never truly have now. I cannot take a step closer; my resolve will break, and not even the little bit of perfection in my life that squirms at my side with knots twisted in his pure, soft hands will be able to save me like he has before.

He teeters as he stands and turns toward the water with obvious awe, drool smudged across his golden cheeks. It reminds me of frosting and cotton and mahogany bedposts...

He wants to go to the sea. I can't bear it. He cries when I swoop in before the space between the two of us increases.

"I'm sorry," I moan in an attempt to appease him. He cries himself out in the brief tantrum, eventually enthralled by my hair instead of the wonder that laps at the shore in front of him. I can't remember why but he just can't go near the water, he can't, I'll die if he does, I don't know what I'm doing...

I cannot lose him. I swear on my life that I will not. No longer can I slip and slide with the will of fate, trapped inside an everlasting window of real and not real, present and past. I need the future now, I need to be grounded, I need him.

I give him a kiss and he gives me a smile. I am more land than water these days.

AN: Inspired by The Ocean by Dar Williams. I don't know if I interpreted Annie's voice well, it's just been something I've been wanting to try, so I apologize if she's OOC.