A Tale of a Boy and His Flower

Through Time

By the time Finn had turned 3 I knew he was going to be a troublemaker. According to Zach he got the worst combinations of personalities to parent but I absolutely loved it. 

He had Finnick's looks, sandy blond and face build but he had my eyes. He got my humor, which Zach didn't appreciate but I loved it. He acted like Jase. Always causing mischief but still gentle and kind. 

The nightmares would still come but less frequently. 

By the time he had turned 5, I no longer felt a sudden need to cry when I would think of his father. I didn't know how I would do when he started asking questions about why he wasn't around. But that wasn't something I didn't want to worry about right now. 

Right now the only thing I was worried about is how he managed to nearly burn down the house so early in childhood. Zach thinks we won't survive living with him. 

When he's 7 he nearly kills Zach. He was playing a game called 'baseball' with Peeta in the backyard. He hit the ball with his bat and it soared through the air straight through the window; nearly taking out Zach sitting in the living room. 

Finn apologized to Zach, who really wants to yell and scream at the boy but with one look into his eyes it's impossible to stay mad at a kid who once cried over killing a spider in his room. 

After that I decided we should head to the Meadow to play. 

When he turns 10 the questions begin. 

The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and he knows we played a role in them. He knows everyone around him, Katniss, Peeta, Zach, Haymitch, me, his father, all are connected to them. 

How can I tell him about that world without frightening him to death? My son, who doesn't know he plays on a graveyard. How do I tell him what killed his father? 

Zach says it will be okay. We have each other. We can make him understand in a way that will make him braver. But one day I'll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won't ever really go away. I'll tell them how I survive it. 

I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after all these years. 

But there are much worse games to play.

It took five, ten, fifteen years for Katniss to agree. But Peeta wanted kids so badly. And coaxing from Finn helped as well. He wanted more kids to play with. It didn't matter that he was 15 when Katniss had her first kid. He was thrilled. 

We eventually had to sit him down and explain to him why his father died. Why we wake screaming in the night. Why we play a major part in the history of Panem. I show him Finnick's trident that I've stored in the attic for years. He gets to see my axes. 

I answer all of his questions and the next time we go to visit District 10. I take him to Jase's grave, I tell him what happened to him, what happened to his grandmother. I showed him the museum. 

On the train ride back to 12, he asks to watch my Games. I'm very hesitant at first. I don't want him to watch it. I don't want him to see me like that. But then I realize he doesn't grasp the true depths of these Games because he's never seen one. He's never experienced a Reaping. Never forced to watch a loved one in the arena. 

I eventually let him. We watch 75th as well. Only victors openly have access to games these days. The rest are kept in an archival museum. They are no longer for entertainment. Only to educate people on our mistakes. 

It saddens me that the first time he hears his father's voice is through the Games. 

He looks more and more like Finnick everyday. Sometimes I turn around and see the Finnick I met in the training center all those years ago. 

It'll take a few more years for him to truly understand and grasp everything we went through. But I'm glad I told him, I'm glad I showed him. Because on the nights my screaming wakes him, he comes to my room. He stays with me and tells me I'm okay. 

In the end our biggest problems in life now are the fact I can't help him with math because I dropped out of school. He doesn't have to worry about The Reaping. 

Sometimes we play a game. Amaryllis vs Finn. Who will know the answer to the homework first? Finn normally wins. But that's okay. Because I'm reminded once more. 

There are much worse games to play. 

When I finally beat my son and get a question right I get a sugar cube. I smile so wide that my face starts to hurt after a while. It's a small action. But one that means a lot. 

Yes, there are much worse games to play.