You cannot erase the past;
you must let it go.
You cannot change yesterday;
you must accept the lessons learned.
You cannot stop time
or stand still in a world
racing around in circles;
you must dance with the wind
and sing with the songs that are playing.
Let whatever mistakes you have made
remain in the shadows of times gone by,
and let love be the answer to the mysteries of life.
~Unknown
Peeta and I are laying on the bed on our stomachs, Poppy between us and level with our faces. It's almost been a full weeks since she's arrived, and I'm actually not that bad at being a mom. She lifts her fist and opens her tiny fingers. Peeta touches his finger to her palm and she closes her hand around it.
Peeta looks the happiest I've ever seen him. I turn to look at Poppy who has her eyes trained on my face. My mom said that she would always be looking at my face because I am her mother and she likes my face over others.
When Poppy releases Peeta's finger, she kicks her legs and starts to whine. I pull myself up on my knees and lift her into my arms, resting her cheek on my shoulder. She stops and grabs the hair that's falling from my braid.
My stomach lets out a loud growl and Peeta laughs. "I'll make lunch?"
I nod. "How about that turkey and rice we had for dinner last night?" I ask.
"Sounds good," he says, kissing my forehead. I follow Peeta down the stairs, being extra careful while holding Poppy. Peeta sets to work on lunch while I rub Poppy's back. She hiccups then throws up down the back of my shirt. I sigh and use my free hand to rub my eyes. I go over to where Peeta is standing against the counter and touch the small of his back.
"I'm going to go change," I say.
"Okay, do you want me to take her?" he asks, putting down the knife he was cutting bread with.
"No, it's okay, I'll take her with me."
As I set her in the bassinet, my mother walks in. "I guess I'm going to go now," she says, touching my shoulder. She reaches for a hug but I take a step back.
"She threw up on me," I say sheepishly. "Let me change real quick."
I still have to wear my oversized shirts because it looks like I'm still four months pregnant. My mother points to my stomach.
"That'll go away in five weeks, just no sex-"
"Mom!"
"-and don't go hunting until after the sixth week."
I shake my head, the blood rushing to my face. My mom laughs.
"You're used to having people talk about your life, why is that embarrassing?"
I pull my shirt over my head. "Because you're my mom, and I don't like you saying the word...sex."
"It's not like I don't know you do it. You just had a baby."
I grimace and pick up Poppy who was starting to whine again.
"Still," I say. My mother laughs again and hugs me, holding me tight. She pulls away and kisses Poppy's forehead.
She picks up her bag and I trail behind her until I reach the front door.
"I love you, and don't forget you can call me anytime," she says, hugging me again. Peeta's done with heating up the turkey and rice and comes to hug my mom.
"Thanks for staying, Mrs. Everdeen," he says.
My mother smiles. "Anytime. I'll make sure they put extra diapers on the train."
She kisses Poppy once more and walks out the door, carrying her bag.
"I love you!" I call. She says it back and I shut the door. I look at Poppy whose eyes are closed as her cheek rests against my shoulder.
"I'll go put her down and we can have lunch," Peeta says, gently taking her from my arms. I fill the plates with the rice and turkey Peeta heated up with slices of bread with cheese and set them on the table.
Peeta sits next to me, sliding his hand under the table to rest on my knee. I smile. Since I've become pregnant, Peeta and I haven't really been as physically close as we were before. My mom's words echo in the back of my mind and I mentally groan.
"I'm just going to go ahead and say this," I mumble, my face getting hot over the words I'm about to say. "We can't have sex for five weeks."
Peeta blinks at me. "How come?"
"Because it takes six weeks for my uterus to go back to its original size."
Peeta just raises his eyebrows and I almost laugh. I guess he doesn't like the word uterus.
We eat silently, Peeta's hand on my knee massaging lightly. When we both finish, our bellies full, I wash off the plates while Peeta starts up the fire. It's still warm outside, but in a few weeks, it'll start to get cold. The house stays chilly though.
I come up behind Peeta who's squatting and poking at the flames and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He stands up and turns around. He cups my face and lightly brushes his lips against mine.
"Thank you," he murmurs. I pull away slightly in confusion.
"For what?"
He struggles for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Thank you for marrying me, for going through the pain of giving birth to our child." He rests his forehead against mine. "Thank you for everything."
My face heats up for the third time today. I cup his face in return. "Peeta, I love you. I would do anything for you, whether it's sacrificing myself in the arena or giving you a child."
He shakes his head and presses his lips against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, to deepen the kiss, but Poppy begins crying.
Peeta kisses me once more and heads toward the staircase. I sigh. He turns to look at me and says, "What? It's not like we can do anything for another five weeks!"
I laugh and shake my head. "Go get Poppy," I say, grinning.
I strip off my shirt and pants and stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. My eyes go to my stomach first, the one that'll be somewhat flat again in five weeks, the one that recently held my daughter.
My eyes move to my upper arms and neck, the skin burned, healed, rubbed off and fixed again. I touch my collar bone where the skin is a little rough and red. How could Peeta think I'm beautiful? He'll find ways to whisper that to me every chance he gets.
There are no scars from the first Games, no reminders. The Capitol put that medicine into me and made my skin whole again. I blink a few times and keep staring at myself. For some reason, I do this a lot. I don't know what it is, I just have to see myself and be reminded of what happened, as if I'll ever forget.
The bathroom door creaks open and Peeta steps in. His eyes immediately lock with mine in the mirror.
"Hey," he says, smiling.
"Hey," I say back, dropping my hand that was still touching my collarbone. Peeta comes up behind me, bringing with him the warmth the cold floor leeched from me. He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my neck.
"You look beautiful," he mumbles, his hot breath blowing against my neck. I roll my eyes because I know I'm not.
"What?" he asks. I forgot I was in front of a mirror and he could see me easily.
"Nothing," I say quickly. Peeta gives me a look and before be can say anything, I turn in his arms to face him. I take the time to study him. His long and blonde his eyelashes, the bright blue color of his eyes and the small smattering of light freckles on his nose.
There are things you just don't notice when you're far away. I like his freckles. I run my pointer finger across the bridge of his nose where most of them are.
I can feel Peeta's eyes as he tries to make eye contact but I don't look up. I move my finger down over the tip of his nose and land on his warm bottom lip.
"Are you okay?" he asks, a puff of warm breath skimming over the top of my finger. I drop my hand and wrap my arms around his neck. I bury my face in his neck and stay there.
"Katniss, are you worried or something?"
I shake my head. Peeta starts listing things: hungry, mad, upset, sick, he even joked by asking me if I was pregnant again. I shake my head each time, keeping my face buried in his neck.
"Please tell me what's wrong, I don't like seeing you not talking."
I pull away and lock eyes with Peeta. "I don't know," I say, tightening my arms. "I guess I'm just...remembering."
Peeta's face immediately hardens a little. "I hate that," he says, his eyebrows furrowed together. "I hate that you're forced to remember everything that they did to you, that's happened. You shouldn't have to go through that." His arms pull me closer to him. I rest my cheek on his chest.
"But I have to," I whisper. My eyes begin to fill. I hate crying. "I have to remember all the people I killed, what I've done to their families. Finnick has a son that he'll never see, Cinna won't ever design another dress, all of those children who died because of the war, even the Peacekeepers, didn't deserve that." Tears are splashing down my cheeks on landing on Peeta's grey shirt, making dark grey spots.
"Katniss," Peeta's voice softens considerably. "That was none of your fault. What you did for their families is give them a better place to live, to mourn. You did nothing wrong. You saved this country."
I keep my eyes closed, feeling whatever energy I had left drain away with Peeta's words. What did I say? He can do anything with words.
"Okay," I mumble. Part of me believes him, the other part thinks he's lying, but Peeta would never lie to me. Unless it were to make me feel better.
A/N:Another chapter yaaaaaaay! I say yay a lot...anyways, review please! (: