Before and After the In-Between

I see her sitting on the rock ledge, at their meeting place. She told me one time when I was younger, that this was the place she and her best friend would meet up when they went hunting. But that was before.

My mother's life is divided neatly into 2 sections. Before and after. Her life before consisted of her mother, her sister, and struggling to survive after the death of her father. It consisted of illegal hunting and trading. Keeping one step ahead of the authorities, knowing who to trust and who to avoid. Knowing who would give the best trade on the black market, and who to trade with because you wanted them on your side rather than not.

Then there was her life after. My dad, the bakery, Haymitch, Buttercup, my sister and myself. No one is struggling to survive now. We have plenty of food. We definitely have plenty of love and laughter. But we have our own struggles. Days when mother can't seem to focus, seems out of sorts. Times when father has to grip the side of a table or some chairs. Haymitch…

But it's always been the in-between time that I wonder about. My sister and I grew up hearing about The Hunger Games, The Rebellion, The Mockingjay. We knew these were important to our family and our story. Mother and Father told us about their parts, they showed us the Book. Sometimes people would stop by our house or they called on the phone. Mother and Father were always polite (well, Father was), but they never spoke long, and always said, "Thanks. Sorry. Have a good day."

Even though I knew all about this stuff, I didn't know it. Not until today.

Today was the day all of the children in the country, who are aged 12, go to school for a special assembly. Today was the day I saw my family story told in a different way. Told from someone else's perspective. Today was the day I understood who my mother and father really were.

My mother, who seems so aloof and separate from others. My father, with his people pleasing skills. These all started to make sense. I saw my parents as terrified teenagers fighting for each others' lives. I saw them willing to sacrifice themselves for each other. I saw my mother, a leader of the rebellion, "If We Burn, You Burn With Us!" I saw my mother's passion as an outsider would. And I realized my father has always been right. She doesn't know the effect she can have.

I saw my father pleading for a ceasefire. I saw him beaten and bruised. For the first time, I heard from another person about the torture The Capitol put him through. And I know how he struggles to continue to have victory over Snow.

Every family has a story. Each generation adds something to the story to continue it. I have always known my parents story. But now I understand the meaning to their story. And I now understand that my sister and I aren't merely addendums to my parents story. We are the moral to their story. We are the proof that life can go on, that it can be good again.

My mother sits at our meeting place. My mother, so quiet and aloof from others. She is still The Mockingjay. She is still The Girl On Fire. But she is more, so much more than that.

I am the son of the Mockingjay. I am the proud son of the Mockingjay, and her Boy With The Bread.