Has it really been another year already? In honor of the first book's tenth anniversary, this year I decided to have Katniss celebrating her birthday ten years after the Games. Happy birthday, Katniss!
Ten years ago, I would put my name in for tesserae for the last time.
No, that's not right… is it? I try to remember. Has it really been long enough for these details to begin to jumble together? Then again, my brain has been through the ringer. Memories have been jumbling together for some time now.
Still, it's a little unsettling to think that I'm having difficulty recalling such a detail. I remember now - the last time I collected the coarse grain they used to hand out to the districts was in June, not May. The month of the Reaping.
Either way, it was ten years ago. And ten years ago today, it would be the last normal birthday I would ever have. Or at least, normal for the old Katniss.
I think about this as we make our way through the woods. Behind me isn't the swarthy teenage boy who would have been following me through these trees a decade ago. In his place is a grown man, a bit weathered from all that he's been through, with patched skin that you can still make out despite the time that's gone by. Oh, he may have told me a few days ago that he thought he'd found a gray hair, already, despite being only 26. But those blond waves and gentle blue eyes are still the same today as they were back then.
What was Peeta doing on this day ten years ago? We didn't know each other back then, or at least, we weren't on talking terms yet. But we were aware of each other. Peeta was already in love with me by then, despite the fact that we'd never even said a word to each other. I wish I could say the same in return, though in hindsight, maybe I was a little more taken with him then I had realized.
"You're awfully quiet," Peeta says, breaking through my thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"
I shake my head, trying to clear it as I come back to the present. "Sorry," I mumble. Then, clearer, "I was just thinking about my birthday ten years ago."
"Ten years ago?" I can hear the puzzlement in his voice. "Why ten years ago?"
It takes a minute for me to respond. Does he really not realize it's been ten years since the Games? "It was my last birthday before the Reaping," I say, letting him fill in the blanks himself. He'll get it.
He lets out something of an embarrassed laugh. "It has been ten years, hasn't it? I guess I've been trying to forget. I like things much better now."
Peeta and I have been together for eight of the last ten years. And by 'together,' I mean in literally every sense: we've been through two Hunger Games and a war together. We've lived together, slept together - both literally, and sexually. We've been through a toasting together, and lived every mundane detail of our lives together since. And despite all this, Peeta's comment still makes me blush.
Peeta sees, of course, and I can tell it pleases him, to get this kind of a reaction out of me even now. But he doesn't rub it in my face. "Don't you?" He asks. "No more Games. No more fence around the district. No more Snow. No more Gale."
I snort, stopping in my tracks so I can turn to face him. My voice takes a teasing tone. "You're still jealous of him?"
He grins. "Why would I be? I just told you he isn't here."
"I don't know," I feign disbelief as he steps forward to wrap me in my arms. "Sounds like jealousy to me."
"Not jealousy," he promises. "Just, since we're thinking about 10 years ago, you have to understand. I never thought I'd be celebrating your birthday with you a decade later, and as your husband."
I can't help the smile that plays on my lips as I allow him to envelop me in his arms. I'll be honest, I never thought this would be my future, either, ten years ago.. But even despite all our loss, I'm so grateful that he's here.
The memory hits me, and for a brief second, I'm transported to another forest, another time I was glad Peeta was with me as I stood wrapped in his arms. It was at the end of our Games, just before we faced Cato and the mutts.
Ten years of lost friends, allies, family members hang heavy over us, and I find myself clinging even tighter on to Peeta. He knows something is playing at my mind, maybe even is having the same thoughts, but if he is, he doesn't say so. He only holds me until I'm ready to move on.
Hand in hand, we continue up the path to the lake, where Peeta is taking me to celebrate my birthday. Around this time of year, at least one camera crew usually pops up somewhere around the District. They know it's my birthday, and it's as good a time as any to check in with the Mockingjay, I guess. But it's the last thing I want to deal with, on any day, let alone my birthday. Peeta, having had enough of the media himself, knows this, and sneaks us off to enjoy a quiet day at the lake before they have a chance to catch us. Good thing we're both early risers.
Ten years ago, sixteen-year-old me sits in our old house in the Seam, surrounded by the mother and sister she loves more than anything. Her friend is there, too, as they celebrate her birthday in the only meager way they can manage. Cherish it, I want to tell her, because, in only a few short months, it'll all be gone, no matter how hard she tries to hold on to it.
But ten years later, I realize, there are children all across Panem who will celebrate their birthdays without having to sign up for tesserae, without the fear of the Reaping hanging over their heads. Panem is a better place today; it's barely recognizable. Yes, there are a lot of things about my life today that me from ten years ago would have a hard time believing. Like the fact that I'm married, and to the Boy with the Bread, no less. Would she approve? She wouldn't have approved of all of it. But she had a lot to learn, it turns out.
I'm glad, I realize, as I take in the scene of the calm forest around me, feel my husband's steady hand pressed against my own. Glad that things are the way they are today. I will never stop missing Prim, or my father, or Rue, or Finnick, or any of the others lost to the old world. Just as I'm sure Peeta will never stop missing his own family and friends. But I've learned I'm capable of surviving in ways I never even dreamed of before. Peeta's mother was right about me being a survivor, but she missed the mark on her son. He's a survivor, too. And together, we survived to a whole new world full of birthdays where children no longer have to be afraid.