I should be happy; construction is scheduled to begin on my bakery in three days' time. One of the Capitol crews will use their huge machines to dig a basement and pour a foundation, and then about a week and a half later the new crew I've hand-selected will start putting together my bakery. And I am happy; I've been looking forward to this for months. But I'm also anxious and irritable, and as we draw closer to the 'big, big, big day' I just get worse and worse. It's been a struggle to keep the shiny images at bay; I've had to rely on Dr. Aurelius's mental exercises more and more often to stay in control.
This morning I'd barely rolled out of bed when I snapped at Katniss, lashed out for no reason other than she was there. I'm not even entirely sure what I said, but she took off like a shot for the woods, without a word, without even eating breakfast. The disappearing into the forest whenever there's conflict act is grating on me, even if it's probably justified this time. I know from experience that I won't likely see her again today until dinner, if even then. I can only hope I've calmed down enough by the time she comes back that I won't make things worse.
I've been waking up before dawn all summer to bake before the heat gets too bad. Even the muggiest of days tend to start cool and misty in the mountains of District 12. Now the early rising habit is again firmly entrenched, much like it was before, when I'd wake up to help my dad before school. The worst of the summer heat is behind us these days, but I have a dozen loaves of bread, along with some muffins made with summer squash from our garden, ready and packed up, and I set out to make deliveries when the rest of the district is just beginning their work days.
Walking into town helps a bit with my mood, the people on the crews are always glad to see me anyway. I make small talk here and there as I distribute the day's offerings. As always I hold back a couple of loaves for Sae, she's my last stop. Her stall is enormously popular at lunch and slices of bread go well with the soups and stews she serves up.
Despite being incredibly busy, Sae drops everything when I approach and envelopes me in a tight hug. She is so loving towards me that it's hard to believe we've only really known each other for six months. And I adore Sae; even if she wasn't so kind to me I'd love her for saving Katniss.
"How's today, Peeta?" She ruffles my hair and I can't help but chuckle.
"Much better now, Sae," I tell her with a smile as I pull the loaves I've set aside for her out of the canvas bag I use to carry them. And it's true; Sae has a way of making everything feel a little less daunting.
She's everything I wish I'd had in a mother.
I don't want to bother Sae when she's preparing for the lunch rush so after a few minutes chatting I make my way out of the marketplace, wandering to what will be my bakery. The land is completely bare, having been cleared and levelled months ago, and is only distinguishable because of the orange wooden stakes that mark the property perimeter. I've come here every day this week. I'm thrilled about the bakery, I really am, but every time I stand here I'm filled with guilt. My parents died here, my brothers died here. Is it wrong to build over the place that they died? How can I contemplate building a new life in the ashes of theirs?
As I've done every day I reach down for a fistful of dirt and let it run through my fingers. They're here, all of them. Brann. Rye. Mom and Dad. Does building over the place where they drew their last breaths mean that I'll forget them again? I've been working for a year to get back my memories of them, and I have no way of knowing even how much I'm still missing. I am the last Mellark, I am the only one who can keep their memory alive, who can carry on their legacy.
Standing, I brush my hands off on my pants and head for the edge of the district, where Dalton is building a house and farm. Delly is still living in Thirteen with her brother, but Dalton has been staying here since construction started, first with Sae, and now in a tiny shack he built beside what will be the main house.
Every time I come out here I'm amazed by his progress. Though it's only been a few days since my last visit the changes are staggering, and it almost looks like he'll be ready to move into the main house any day.
Dalton is speaking with one of his crew when I approach, but he immediately waves me over.
"Peeta!" he greets, shaking my hand firmly. "You only missed your girl by a few minutes."
"Katniss?" My confusion must be evident on my face. I thought she'd gone to the woods this morning. She hadn't mentioned planning to see Dalton, though I guess she didn't say much of anything to me this morning, especially after I bit her head off. Dalton grins.
"You got any other girls?" he teases, and I laugh, shaking my head. "She's helping me make a little something special for Dell, do you want to see?" His grin is huge, infectious, and I nod.
We stop first at the little shack he built to live in; eventually it'll be a shed of some sort but for now it serves as a place to eat and sleep, a site office, and storage for some of the construction materials. To call it crowded is to grossly understate the matter. Still, he quickly locates a spare hard hat in the mess and drops it on my head with a thunk. It's quite amazing to see how happy and playful Dalton is now that he's living in District 12. When he and Delly came months ago to visit he was reserved, wary, but clearly being here agrees with him.
He leads me to the main house, chatting about the weather and pointing out some of the changes since I was last around. Except for windows and roof tiles the outside is complete. Inside is another story, and I'm fascinated watching a pair of electricians running wiring through what will be future walls. They are likely the same people who will wire my bakery in the not too distant future.
What will be the main living area is dominated by a huge fireplace, the brick and clay hearth already laid. There is a barrel standing beside the hearth, and when I glance in it I can see it's half full of pink river rocks, glittering with quartz. Dalton grins, obviously too excited to wait for me to make the connection on my own.
"I'm going to surround the entire thing in these pink stones. Dell loves pink, and after all that time surrounded by nothing but grey in Thirteen I want our home to be bright and colourful for her. Katniss has been hauling the rocks back from a stream in the woods for me."
"Delly's going to love you even more Dalton, if that's possible," I tell him with an easy smile but my mind is reeling, thinking of Katniss hauling rocks back from the woods bagful by bagful, all alone.
Dalton points out a few more new additions inside the house, speaking with a pride that comes from seeing your vision realized. I'm looking forward to experiencing that feeling for myself with the bakery. My house is nice, and it's mine, but the Capitol designed and built and furnished it, and the few paintings I've hung don't really personalize it all that much.
We head back outside and as I hand him back the hard hat I ask, "How long has Katniss been bringing you rocks?" I try to keep my tone light. I'd like to think she would ask for my help with such a big project, but she hasn't, not a word.
"Just yesterday and today, I'm amazed that she's gathered so many already. She's been a great help, not only with the stones." He looks pensive for a moment, then shakes his head. "Anyway, I'd better get back to work if I want to have Dell and Davey in here before the snow flies. I'll see you tonight, Peeta."
He turns and walks away before it clicks in my head that he said tonight. I guess Katniss has made plans for us? I hope it's for us anyway, and not just her and Dalton. I didn't realize that she was spending time over here during the day and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it.
I walk for another hour, alone with my thoughts, observing the reconstruction but not interacting with anyone else. It's only when I realize that my leg is throbbing from being on it all day without pause that I finally, reluctantly, head back to Victor's Village.
Katniss is at my house when I arrive, standing in the kitchen over an enormous pot, her head encircled with sweet cinnamon steam, the counter littered with glass jars. I shouldn't be surprised to see her here since I know she was with Dalton just a couple of hours ago but I really didn't expect she'd come back until late. She's humming, and when she notices me the smile she gives me is warm and genuine.
"Hey," she says happily, no trace of the tension she wore like a cloak this morning. "Are you hungry? Greasy Sae taught me to make this amazing stuff with apples and currants and raisins, she calls it mincemeat, though there's no meat in it. It's supposed to go into a pie, but I've just been eating it spread on bread." I'm not hungry, even though I only picked at breakfast and skipped lunch altogether. My stomach has been in knots all week. Her enthusiasm is infectious though, so I nod. Katniss doesn't care much for cooking, she can throw together a great meal but she doesn't usually enjoy the process. However all of the preserving that Sae is teaching her seems to have struck a chord with her, and that's something I'm happy to encourage.
She gestures for me to sit at the kitchen table and I watch as she slices some of this morning's bread, white and fluffy with a rich golden crust. She slathers the slices with creamy goat cheese, then tops them with dollops of the dark chunky mixture from the pot, still steaming.
When she sets the plate in front of me I can't resist grabbing her hand, I just want to touch her so badly. With a little tug I pull her onto my lap and then hold my breath. I've only held Katniss like this twice before and I brace myself for her to stiffen and pull away but she instead turns to me with an expectant smirk and a pretty blush creeping over her cheeks.
"I'm sorry about this morning, Katniss," I tell her, needing to get that off my chest right away, but she shakes her head.
"Everyone is entitled to a bad day, Peeta. I know you didn't mean anything by it." I'm surprised and humbled by her insight, by how casually she forgives me, and I can feel some of the stress of the day melt away.
She makes to get up but I grab her hip. "Stay?" She leans over and brushes her lips over my cheek in the softest of kisses.
"Let me turn off the burner. I'll come right back." Her words whisper across my face in a cinnamon-scented promise before she eases away.
True to her word she's only gone a moment, shutting off the stove and moving the large pot to the side. When she comes back she pauses in front of me, hesitant, but I'm desperate to hold her, to replenish my stores of calm with the warmth of her. I wrap my arms around her and pull her again into my lap, snug against my chest, and she practically melts.
This is what I needed, more than the food that she carefully lifts to my lips, more than the distractions of baking and walking and visiting. What I need is just her, just Katniss. And I realize that it's been like this since the first arena. When I'm not with her I feel unsettled, I constantly wonder where she is, what she's doing, whether she's okay. Only when she's beside me do I feel at peace. As she feeds me bits of sweet and savoury bread I understand that pushing her away this morning made the whole day worse, and now feeling her small body pressed against mine I regret it even more. Our time is too precious to waste.
We sit silently as she feeds me, bite by bite, sharing shy smiles. When she strokes my bottom lip with a calloused thumb to remove an errant bit of fruit I can resist no longer, reaching up to catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. I can feel the shudder that vibrates through her at the touch of my mouth and it's matched by a rush of warmth that pools in my groin.
I want to kiss her. I need to kiss her. Those soft peach lips are only inches away. As I sit here internally debating, all but paralyzed with indecision, she slowly leans in. The first touch of her lips to mine sends a bolt of lightning straight to my dick. Her hands slide up my neck, fingers twisting in the curls on the back of my head and the sensation is incredible.
She shifts a little and captures my lower lip between hers, and I feel the fleeting swipe of her tongue. I can't prevent the moan that rumbles from my throat. I want her. My fingers twitch against her back, begging to explore, but I rein them in, I can't lose myself, like I did when we were drunk all of those weeks ago. I can't risk pushing her too far too fast.
Apparently Katniss doesn't share my hesitation. Her fingers tighten in my hair as her tongue continues its cautious exploration of my bottom lip, and lust infuses my every fibre. It's only a bit of lucky positioning that prevents her from feeling the force of my desire, my cock twitches barely an inch from where her firm thighs rest across my lap, and it's all I can do not to buck my hips forward, to rut against her like an animal in heat.
Her teeth nip gently and my ability to think vanishes. Pure instinct kicks in and my arms wrap tightly around her as I finally let myself taste her fully, the velvety softness of her tongue, sweet with raisins and nutmeg, the ridges of the roof of her mouth that make her whimper when I stroke them. We've never kissed like this. It's clumsy and a little sloppy and it's the most incredible thing I've ever experienced. She's just as eager as I am, and together we learn, together we strive to draw out little sighs and moans from each other.
We are completely lost in each other, oblivious to our surroundings when a series of sharp knocks rocket us back to reality. We spring apart like guilty children, but she doesn't immediately jump off my lap and for a few moments we just stare at each other, breathing heavily.
She is utterly gorgeous, her lips swollen, eyes hooded, hair mussed up. Love swells in my chest, this incredible woman in my arms, she's well-kissed and dishevelled because of me. I did that. A powerful wave of possessiveness crests as I stare into those mercury orbs that burn with passion - passion for me. 'Mine,' I think. 'She's mine now.'
A second series of knocks sound and I groan audibly. Katniss snorts at my reaction, eyes twinkling. "That'll be Dalton," she says with a sigh. "He said he'd come by to ask for our help with a project. I meant to tell you, but we were a little distracted." She hops off my lap and reaches for my hand. I try to adjust myself surreptitiously, grateful that the loose linen pants I wear are somewhat forgiving because my inability to calm down is abundantly obvious.
We make our way to the door to find Thom, instead, standing on the porch, holding a pair of large boxes. As we all exchange greetings Thom keeps shooting me approving looks, the universal guy signal for 'way to go.' It's clear he can tell from our flushed faces and rumpled appearance that he interrupted something. I suspect the boxes in his arms are the only thing preventing him from high-five-ing me. Thankfully Katniss is oblivious to his knowing smirks; I imagine she'd be embarrassed. She is intensely private, even more so after so long performing for the Capitol. I, on the other hand, feel an odd sense of pride, and I squeeze her hand firmly before letting go to relieve Thom of some of his burden.
It turns out that the boxes are part of the special project Dalton wants to speak with us about. Thom and I stack them by the kitchen door, and then sit at the table chatting while Katniss packs the mincemeat into sterile glass jars. I admit that I'm kind of terrible company right now because I can't keep my eyes off Katniss, but Thom doesn't complain even when he has to repeat himself several times.
When Dalton finally arrives bearing yet more boxes, he has Sae and Lila with him, along with a Seam kid I've hired for my crew named Kip and a couple of other young men from the work crews, all District 12 survivors.
Sae has a hamper of food and insists that we picnic outside on the green while Dalton explains his request. I pull blankets down from the closet and Katniss gathers plates and pours pitchers of water.
It's a beautiful evening; September is an incredible time of year in District 12. Balmy, but without the oppressive humidity of summer. A cold chill runs down my back as I realize that I missed all of September last year, between being in the Capitol dungeons and then in the bunkers that make up District 13. I sit down hard on the corner of a blanket and close my eyes against the rush of images. The chatter around me suggests no one notices, and yet somehow Katniss is there, her hand squeezing mine, her voice soft in my ear. "You're safe, Peeta, it's okay now. You're okay now." I nod and focus on the feeling of her thumb stroking my hand, our fingers clasped tightly, and the waves of fear and confusion fade.
The meal is lively, and I try to enjoy being with everyone, though I'm still struggling. Katniss seems to sense it and stays by my side. Dusk is falling by the time Sae's meal has been devoured, Katniss lights candles as Dalton begins to speak.
"We have a ceremony, back in District Ten, for saying goodbye to lost loved ones," he starts, solemnly. "At dusk we launch sky lanterns, to guide the spirits of the deceased to the afterlife. For us it's a tangible way to say goodbye, to release the pain of their loss and allow ourselves to celebrate their lives and remember them with joy and love." He reaches into one of the boxes and pulls out what looks like an upside-down paper bag, but stiffened somehow.
He turns and hands it directly to me, and I realize at once that it's made of baking parchment, a special heat-resistant paper that my father would occasionally order from the Capitol. It was expensive, so he used it only for the most exclusive of treats: macarons. Made from ground almonds and egg whites, macarons are cookies so delicate that even the vibration of us kids running through the bakery loft could crack their fragile crusts and render them unsellable. When he could afford to order the almonds and parchment needed to make them he'd send us boys away early and bake them before the store-front could be overrun with heavy-footed door-slamming patrons. And when finally he'd put out trays of the pastel-tinted delicacies, the merchant women would flock to buy them, as if they were a status symbol instead of a baked treat. I never had the opportunity to learn to make them, by the time I was old enough to trust with that kind of precision work the bakery's finances were precarious and there was no money to risk on things so easily ruined. I haven't seen a sheet of baking parchment in at least 5 years.
I shake away the memory and see that Dalton is looking at me, his brow furrowed. I hope I haven't missed anything while I've been lost in my memories. "You remember Davey, right?" he continues, directed at me. I nod, confused. Davey is Delly's little brother, the reason that she's still in District 13 while Dalton is in 12. "Davey is having a real hard time, missing his parents and all. We want him to live with us, once the house is finished, but Dell is worried about how he'll react, being back here. I've been talking with Sae about having a sky lantern ceremony, and, well, she mentioned that there are a few others who might want to join in."
I understand now what Dalton is hinting at; apparently I haven't been as subtle about my conflicted feelings over my family's final resting place as I'd thought. I'm not sure what to say to him though. I can't imagine how a bunch of paper bags could possibly make any difference in the gut-wrenching guilt I feel over being here when they are not.
At a loss for words myself I simply continue examining the lantern as Dalton describes the basics of the ceremony to the others. The parchment is stretched over a frame of thin willow branches lashed together with thread, and the base holds a tiny bundle of fabric soaked in wax. It's remarkably light for its size, almost flimsy. Dalton looks back at me bouncing the lantern on my palm and grins. "Let me show you," he says, and pulls a box of matches from his pocket. The wax-saturated fabric catches easily, producing a low flame and making the paper bag glow. Then, almost as if by magic, the bag begins to drift upwards out of my hands, like a hot air balloon I remember reading about in a history textbook years ago. My jaw drops, and the others have nearly identical expressions. Lila squeals and begins to dance around. Dalton catches the lantern once it reaches his shoulder height and uses a bit of water to extinguish the flame, which makes me unexpectedly sad. There was something ethereal about that glowing orb, floating so gracefully, and I immediately miss the feeling of hushed anticipation that had accompanied it.
"So," Dalton says to all of us with an almost triumphant cadence. "Will you all help?" There's an enthusiastic murmur from the group, and smiles all around.
Apparently Delly and Davey are coming to District 12 on the train the day after tomorrow, and Dalton wants to hold the ceremony that evening. We all sit quietly as night falls, absorbed in assembling willow frames and wrapping parchment paper around them while Sae melts candles to drip wax onto torn up bits of rag. When finally it's fully dark we have almost 40 lanterns put together, and there are enough supplies to make another dozen or so, which Katniss and I offer to do in the morning. Dalton says it would be traditional to have one for every soul we've lost, but so many people in 12 perished it just wouldn't be possible.
Sae and Katniss put away the dishes and blankets while the rest of us move the lanterns into the house and stack them in the main floor bedroom. My studio is bigger, but there are pictures in there that I'm not willing to let anyone else see.
Once everyone has left, Katniss and I climb the stairs silently and crawl into bed. It's early yet but I'm exhausted, and I fall asleep immediately, but not for long.
The nightmares are vicious, and when I finally manage to pull myself out of the horror of my mind I find myself lying on my side, sweat-soaked and rigid with terror. Katniss's slender arms are wrapped around me and her lips brush the nape of my neck as she sings under her breath. Under any other circumstance that would be incredibly erotic but I'm so upset and I feel so vulnerable that all I can do is cry.
When dawn breaks I've slept no more than an hour and I don't think Katniss fell asleep at all. Her arms are still wrapped around me, though she stopped singing hours ago, and her breath skitters across my neck in a way that's surprisingly intimate. She must sense me waking because her arms tighten slightly. "I'm sorry, Peeta," she whispers. I roll over to face her and her arms fall away. I miss them immediately.
"Why are you sorry," I whisper back, my throat raw from repressing sobs half the night.
"I asked Dalton to include us in his project. It's too much for you, isn't it? That's why you had such a bad night. I should have spoken to you first." She can't meet my eyes. I gather her into my arms and press my lips against her forehead. It's so easy to comfort each other when we're wrapped up together in the dim of my bedroom or hers. The familiarity of it, knowing it's something we used to do before the Quell, knowing that it's something we've always done just for each other, not for an audience.
"I've been struggling for a while, Katniss, I think you know that. I don't think anything Dalton says will make it worse. I just…" I pause to gather my thoughts. "I never got to say goodbye to them." Katniss wraps her arms around me and we hold each other in the quiet. It's a long time before I can speak again.
"It's just so hard to accept that I'll never see them again. It doesn't feel real." I shift back to look right at her, and she meets my gaze unflinchingly. "Am I making a mistake? Building my bakery where they died? Am I… am I dishonouring them?" Her brow furrows in thought, and she shakes her head slightly.
"I don't think so, Peeta. I think it's fitting, actually. In a way they'll be a part of the new bakery." I cringe and she shakes her head. "Sorry, I don't mean it like that. I just mean that your family has had a bakery in that spot since the Dark Days, and building a new one there, where there's so much of your family history, it's like proving that you're stronger than everything the Capitol did to us. The Mellark family prevails," she smiles wryly at me and I try to smile back, though my heart hurts. I don't know how much prevailing there'll be since I'm the last Mellark, and I can't fathom having children. Katniss doesn't want them, and I'm terrified of bringing a baby into the world when I can't guarantee I can keep myself together well enough to take care of it. I love kids, I've wanted to be a father since I was a kid myself. But I know what it's like to grow up afraid of your parent. I couldn't do that to another child.
"Peeta?" Her tentative voice breaks me from my reverie, I'm not sure how long I was lost in my head again. Her eyes are large and solemn. "I think they'd be so proud of you, Peeta."
It's physically painful to hear that because I just don't think it's true. I can't keep my emotions under control and bury my face in my hands. "Oh baby," she murmurs as she wraps me in her embrace again and I sob into her shoulder.
...
The sun is fully up and streaming into the bedroom when I finally calm. I'm embarrassed by my outburst, and I try to explain.
"I knew I'd never see them again Katniss. I went into that arena to die, they were supposed to be safe. They died because of me.." It's hard to bite back the urge to blame her too, so much of what they programmed into my head in the Capitol centred around Katniss being to blame for their deaths, only months of working with a half dozen different doctors allows me to see that for the lie that it is... but still it lingers in my brain. I think she hears my unspoken thought anyway because she simply holds me tighter and whispers a string of soothing nonsense.
By the time we reluctantly climb out of bed it's far too late to bake, and I'm not sure I trust myself to do anything that requires mental alertness anyway. Katniss goes downstairs to throw together something for us to eat while I climb in the shower. It's only when I'm standing under the hot water that I realize Katniss called me baby. She's never called me by anything other than my name before. I've only ever heard her use a term of endearment for Prim. I wonder what that means.
...
Katniss doesn't go hunting, I don't bake, we break all of our routines today. She makes eggs with tomatoes and spinach from our garden, and strong tea, and after we eat she takes me to the woods to pick apples. We hardly speak at all. It's so soothing in the woods though, the whisper of the leaves in the wind, the smell of pine and dirt and the sweet pungency of fallen fruit. I lose count of just how many different shades of green there are in the leaves and moss and needles. I understand why Katniss loves it out here so much.
And in the early part of the afternoon she brings me home and tucks both of us into my bed for a much needed nap. This time we sleep soundly.
...
Delly and Davey arrive the following afternoon, Katniss, Dalton and I meet them at the station. Because their house isn't yet fit to sleep in they'll stay with me for their short visit, Delly and Dalton in the guest room, Davey on the couch. There are two more empty bedrooms upstairs but with Katniss and I waking up so often with nightmares it just seems like a better idea to put some space between them and us.
Dell is as effusive as ever, it amuses me to watch her practically launch herself at poor Katniss who is so much more reserved. Davey has grown tall and lanky since I saw him last, hard to believe that he's 13 now. I was worried that seeing Davey might remind Katniss too much of Prim with his age and fair colouring but so far she seems unaffected.
The route to Victor's Village bypasses the devastation and rebuilding but Davey will see some of it tonight, we will be launching the sky lanterns from the bare land that was once our Justice building. It too is on the docket for reconstruction, I think the foundation is scheduled to be dug right after the bakery's actually.
The new building won't be called a Justice building though. Apparently it'll be called a town hall, which is an archaic term, but it will do the same things as the old one did; issue permits, hold offices for officials, etc. With Paylor promising a new democratically elected government the town hall will also be a place where people can vote and representatives can talk to their constituents. It's all a little overwhelming to envision.
We drop their bags at my house, then head to the farm so that Delly and Davey can see how much Dalton has accomplished. The real benefit of having Delly around is that she doesn't let anyone have any time to brood, she keeps up a near constant stream of chatter all day. We all convene at Sae's house for dinner, then set out for town about an hour before sunset.
Most of the people staying with Sae come along, which is certainly helpful for carrying all of those lanterns. My heart aches when I hear Davey's gasp, I vividly remember my own reaction to the devastation of my home. I look over my shoulder to see Delly and Dalton each with an arm around the boy, who looks shocked and horrified. Though the rebuilding is well under way the blank spots where familiar buildings used to stand still outnumber the new structures, and there is still plenty of rubble in piles everywhere. Katniss too is watching the little family, sadness etched on her face.
There's a good-sized crowd already assembled when we arrive, and Dalton efficiently arranges everyone into a rough circle, careful to place Katniss and me closer to the centre, with Davey. He and Delly pass out the lanterns, and Sae hands out candles to everyone without a lantern.
I don't really hear the words he says so much as I absorb their meaning, an invocation for guidance, a sonnet of love that reaches beyond the grave. By the time he lights the first candle and the flame passes from person to person I can feel the energy that thrums through the crowd. The candle bearers begin to light the lanterns we hold. As gently as dandelion fluff in the wind the lanterns begin to float gracefully upwards, and I swear I can feel my heart lifting with them. Dalton is chanting something in another language, 'Requiem Aeternam', the others join in as they learn the sounds and the words follow the lanterns high into the night sky.
For just a few minutes it feels like we are suspended between our lives here and something else, something so much bigger, and I'm infused with a feeling of warmth and serenity. It's almost as if I can feel them with me, Dad, Mom, Brann and Rye, even Prim, and so many others. Can feel their approval and their love. They'll be watching over all of us; in this moment I feel sure of it.
Katniss and I are wrapped in each other's arms, and I have no clear memory of how that came to be. We both have tears streaming down our faces, in fact everyone I can see in the gathering is crying silently and hugging each other. Even Lila, held aloft in Sae's arms, is still and reverent.
One by one the lanterns wink out, high above us. The group stays completely silent until the last light disappears. Then the sounds of this life, the low voices, coughs, shuffling of feet emerge, grounding me, reminding me that while the lights have gone elsewhere I'm still here and I still have a life to lead. It's humbling, and the gratitude I feel for my community, for the new family that surrounds me, for the arms of the love of my life encompassing me, fills me with a calm that has been missing for months. And I know, in this moment, that life will be good again, despite our losses.