There were a few things that I just had to accept. That certain people weren't coming home.
Prim, Cinna, Finnick, my hunting partner and my Mother; well at least not permanently for her.
I had decided that there should be some sort of memorial stature somewhere a few years back, but I couldn't bring myself to propose it in conversation until now. And why not a better place than right here, in the Victor's Village. I told Peeta that I wanted to do it, he liked that idea but said that we should try to involve Haymitch and Annie as well, as the one big family, we now call oursleves.
It will be a less heart breaking way for Annie to tell her son what happened to Finnick in the future.
We got together a few days back and decided to bring some special things, close to our hearts, to where we aggreed to meet, in the centre of the Victor's Village. We had gathered a Primrose tree, which Peeta had dug for me, a pink ribbon for Prim's late goat, Finnick's trident, a sealed bottle that holds some Hemlock tablets, my Mockingjay pin that Madge gave me when this all started, along with others that we remembered as time went on.
There's a circular garden patch, edged with vaguely rectangular stones, filled with an array of flowers. It's pretty, but this is where we had aggreeded to make it and we all start to remove the dainty flowers and place them aside in a wheelbarrow we borrowed from Greasy Sae. We placed the smaller items, ones that could get easily lost, into glass containers, to preserve every little essence of life that is left with the item. We started with the Primrose tree, taking turns digging a little deeper within the soil and Peeta placed it into the ground and re-covered it with precise hand movements, as to not break a single root. I pulled out the ribbon from my pocket and unfolded it, rubbing out any creases and tied it to the trunk and allowed Annie to make it into a beautiful bow, just like mother used to do. We each took our item and made their places known in the ground surrounding the Primrose.
I haddn't notest that Peeta had gone, until I heard him call for me from the house. Our house. I rose from my knees and headed over to him, brushing off the flecks of dirt still on me, telling the others that I wouldn't be long. As I aproached the door, he took my hand and lead me into one of the spare rooms we had converted into his little art room. I notest the smell of paint as we walked in and I stood at his work bench with him, looking at his creation. There on the desk was a wooden plaque with a stand to burry in the ground and a sentence on it, which read "For all those who are lost in body but not spirit, as they live on in our hearts." He had decorated it with the flowers he knows so well from frosting his cakes and biscuits and had used all the bright colours he remembers, from everyones district. Even some aspects from them too, such as the odd fish here and there from district 4, where Finnick and Annie where from and tree branches from when I knew Rue in 11. It truely was beautiful.
"Peeta..." I had no words that I could use to tell him how much this meant to me.
"I know." He said, and he must have known what I was trying to say. He's always been better with words than me. "Lets take it outside." And we walked down the hallway back outside to the others. But Peeta stopped in his footsteps at the door when he saw the memorial. His grasp on my hand grew tighter with fear stricken across his face. He grips onto the railings for more support, making his fingers turn white, until the flashback subsided. I suddenly felt completely guiltily that this would happen to him every time he came outside, with it right by the front of our house, when a tear rolls down his face. I cup his face in my hands, making him look right into my eyes. "You're okay Peeta." I tell him, "It's just a bad memory. I'm sorry, we should have placed it somewhere else. I forgot that this might happen-" But he cut me off.
"No; it's beautiful." he whispers with a smile which I return. I wiped away his tear and turned around towards the group, locking our fingers together, to look at what everyone had created. It truly was a work of art. Horrible, painful, but beautiful art all the same. The Primrose off centre with Finnick's Trident standing proud next to it. The smaller items buried shallow so you could see from within the glass containers. Some of the flowers were put back in, setting a lovely background to the other items.
Peeta speaks up and says, "Just one final touch." He unlocks our hands and walks over, pulling out the plaque and positions it pleasently within the arrangement and returns to me, arms open wide.
The five of us huddle together to admire and mourn the stature we had created, with confused emotions of happy memories, joy and sadness.
"Good job, sweetheart." Says Haymitch as he takes another swig of alcohol, but I know he means it. A pair of little hands creep up onto my protruding belly accompanied with a little voice, "Auntie Katniss. What is it?" He asks happily, with a smile identicle to Finnick's.
"I don't know little man. What would you prefer?" I say.
"Boy, cause then I have a cousin to play with!"
"Yeah," I laughed lightly, "that would be nice wouldn't it."
"It could be both you know." Peeta says, with the smile I long to see daily.
"Yes," I reply, pulling him into a kiss, "it could be both."
