"Dylan!" I hear mother scream from the porch. "Dylan, where are you?" She covers her ears like there's piercing thunder going on somewhere. She does it every once in a while, but not so much anymore. Only when she's worried or when she thinks of Dad. "Dylan, please . . ."

"I'm here, Mom." I say. I try to run to her aid but she tells me to stay put. She hurries of the back porch of our house, onto the beach, and to my side. She drapes a blanket over me.

"Where have you been?"

"Right here."

"Why, sweetie?"

"I'm thinking," That worries her. Her green eyes fill with worry and relief. Worry because she doesn't want to relive her past; she does it only for me. Relief because she knows I'm safe and not with Dad; she always worries I'll leave her. I always deny it. I love her so much. I'll never leave . . . until I'm eighteen, anyways. And even then I won't be far. I'll stay in four. My home.

"What do you want to know?" She positions herself in the sand beside me, knowing it may take a while.

"Everything." I smile at her. She's told me a million stories. Some she holds from me, because at the time I was too little. I'm fourteen now. I think I can handle it.

"I don't think we have enough time for that," she says with a laugh. She covers her ears again. She rocks herself and I wrap my arm around her, grasping her hand like she tells me Dad did when they first got married. She also tells me they had an argument when she had to go to the bathroom but Dad wouldn't let go of her. That sounds like something he would do. "He could've had anyone," she says, falling out of her trance. She still grasps my hand. "But he chose me. A girl who was mad from the Capitol's wicked games. When the Quarter Quell was beginning, my name was drawn, but Mags took my place. It wouldn't have mattered, anyways. There was no 'last one standing'. Then again, maybe it would've. I would've done anything to keep him safe. Your father was part of the Quarter Quell and a part of the rebels. He was to protect Katniss, make sure she could get out alive so she could be the Mockingjay. Skip ahead a lot, after I was rescued by the Rebels, and your father and I were married. It was beautiful; Peeta made the most wonderful cake. Soon after that, you were conceived. Telling him was hard." She relives the moment, shaking her head, crinkling her nose, furrowing her brow, and scowling as if he's actually out in the water and she's talking to him again.

"Finnick, I said, If we ever have a child, we're doomed. The child will be exactly like you! Stubborn, cocky, but at the same time amazing.

Annie, He looked so scared. No,

What's that supposed to mean?

Annie, I go with the rebels to the Capitol tomorrow."

She covers her ears again. "We spent the rest of the night in bed, his hand on my belly, kissing me gently."

"What was the hardest part?" I ask. "Knowing he wouldn't come back, or actually hearing it."

"You really are like your father," She smiles. "Always asking the toughest questions and expecting the simplest answer." She takes a deep breath. "Knowing. I kept waiting for someone to tell me. I couldn't sleep. I thought I might lose hold of myself, or even lose you from stress. But I couldn't. I had to stay strong. And I did." She hugs me tightly. I decide the questions should stop there. I've given her a hard enough time.

We sit on the sand for a few minutes, just staring into the water. Mom digs in her robe and pulls out handful of things, some I recognize; some I don't.

Two pieces of rope (One knotted, one not). A picture of Mom and Dad on their wedding day, with Peeta's beautiful cake. A picture of Mom in the hospital, giving birth, with Katniss holding one of her hands and Johanna the other. One of all three of them with a newborn me (I suspect that Gale and Peeta were controlling cameras). A bracelet with shells. A white clay square. A clay trident. A crumpled piece of parchment paper. And lastly, a piece of blue paper.

Mom sees my confusion at what these things are and why she keeps them all in her pocket. She quickly explains. "The rope is what kept your father sane when I was captured by the Capitol. He always tied knots. We both did, though he did it more than me." She laughs at this. "One piece is for you. Maybe you'll find comfort in knotting like your father and I did. The picture of your father and me is obviously our wedding day. I love that beautiful cake. Your father teased me because I didn't want to eat it, let alone smash it into each other's faces." She's smiling quite big now. "The two pictures of you and me are, once again, obviously the day you were born. Gale and Peeta were fighting over the camera so Johanna kicked them out. We let them back in after I was done screaming and you were safe in my arms." She hands me all these things after she's done explaining their purpose. My hands are overflowing with precious memories. "The bracelet of shells was the first present your father ever bought me." She gently slides it onto her wrist and shakes it into a comfortable position. "Your father had a weird obsession with sugar cubes." She smiles and rolls her eyes at the small white square. "The trident represents your father's signiture weapon. Silly, I know, having a small clay one. But you know, since your fourteen, and your father was fourteen when he used his trident to win the Games, maybe, just maybe, we can go fishing and you can use it."

"Really?" I ask, sort of jumping up and down, excitement tingling up my spine.

"Yes, Dylan." She opens the parchment paper and reads what it says:

Dear Daddy,

Mommy and I miss you very much. She tells me about you all the time and I think you sound really cool. She says I look a lot like you, but she says my personality is a mix of both of you. I wish I could see you. I dream about you all the time. I dream about you, me, and Mommy out on a boat, having a picnic on the water. I wish you could read this. Mommy says that the people you love never really leave you, so maybe your looking over my shoulder. Nope, I just checked. She also says that even though you can't see the people you love, they are always with you. Hopefully she's right. She's always right. We miss and love you.

Love, Dylan and Mommy. (Annie for you because I'm sure you don't call her Mommy.)

She hands me the blue paper. I stare at it dumbfoundedly. "He wrote this for you." she says gently. "He said to wait until I thought you were old enough."

Dear Dylan,

We named you that because it means 'son of the sea'. You should be thanking me because some of the names your mom came up with are just rediculous. But then she thought of Dylan and I was like "YES!". The name is perfect for you. She was right. She's always right. Even when she's wrong, she's right. Hopefully you've learned this by now because if you haven't, the next years will be tough. Don't worry, Dylan. She's a sweetheart. Trust me. I know that if your reading this, I'm not there. I'm so sorry for that. I really wish I could be there with you and your mom. Don't ever doubt that I love you. I love you with all my heart and nothing will ever change that. Be good to your mom. She deserves it. She's been through hard times, with me leaving and all, so I need you to be the man. Keep her safe, make sure she's always okay. Don't let anything happen to her, I beg of you. Well, Dylan, I think I have to go now. I love you. Remember that. Always.

Love, Finnick Odair, Your Loving and Ever-So Awesome Dad. P.S. I Love you, Annie.

I admire his handwriting. The way the y's look like tridents. The way he underlined his name with a trident at the end, and Mom's name with a knot, symbolizing that even in the darkest of times, there is always and forever . . . HOPE.