For All the Fish in the Sea
at the bottom of the sea
He rushes towards her in a hurricane of strawberry-blonde curls, sunkissed skin, and flailing, reckless limbs. "Auntie Johanna, Auntie Johanna," her name tumbles from his lips, a pair of gorgeous baby-blues gazing up at her. "Today, we went out on the boat, and I caught so many fish. One of them was even bigger than me! If I fell overboard, it probably would've swallowed me whole!"
Dylan continues to gush in the way that children so often do. He's not lying per se, more liking stretching the truth, weaving his own tall tales, and Johanna knows that not a bit of it is true. For a second, she can feel her breath catch in the back of her throat because he looks so much like his father that it's painful. Bittersweet because although he's the spitting image of his father, little Dylan Odair will never get the chance to meet him, but still, she makes it her mission to pass down the stories, to let her "nephew" know what an amazing man his father had been and how much he would've adored his son. There aren't many of them left, the victors, the survivors, so they all band together, check up on one another, and this is what constantly brings Johanna Mason back to the shores of District Four.
It's not like there's anything left for her back in Seven. Annie and Dylan are the closest thing to family that she has left. This mad widow and her precocious son are broken, but in the end, Johanna's just as shattered and lost as they are, so it only stands to reason that the family she manages to find for herself are the pieces left behind of the wreckage.
Every single day, she strives to fill that void, to be the same fearless guardian that Finnick would've been, and while she's nowhere near perfect, she tries.
She likes to think that he'd be proud of her, of the little man that Dylan's growing into, of the way they've all managed to come together in their shared loss.
Just like his mother and father, Dylan takes to the water like a fish, and though he wasn't born in District Four, there's no doubt that he belongs here, that this is his home. The salt water flows like blood through his veins, the tide continuously beckons to him, calling him home. It's through Dylan that Johanna learns to trust the water again, so much so that now she no longer associates the droplets beading on her skin with the unrelenting pain of torture. Now, whenever the ocean clings to her skin, a smile crosses her lips because it reminds her of days spent thrashing around in the waves with Dylan.
Clenched in his small, freckled fist, he holds out a plastic bag, and when she kneels down to his level, she notices a tiny fish circling around. "I caught this for you! Caught it with my own two hands in the tide pools outside." An unwavering pride shines through his toothy grin, and for an instant, that smile is worth more to her than all the fish in the sea.
Dylan continues to gush in the way that children so often do. He's not lying per se, more liking stretching the truth, weaving his own tall tales, and Johanna knows that not a bit of it is true. For a second, she can feel her breath catch in the back of her throat because he looks so much like his father that it's painful. Bittersweet because although he's the spitting image of his father, little Dylan Odair will never get the chance to meet him, but still, she makes it her mission to pass down the stories, to let her "nephew" know what an amazing man his father had been and how much he would've adored his son. There aren't many of them left, the victors, the survivors, so they all band together, check up on one another, and this is what constantly brings Johanna Mason back to the shores of District Four.
It's not like there's anything left for her back in Seven. Annie and Dylan are the closest thing to family that she has left. This mad widow and her precocious son are broken, but in the end, Johanna's just as shattered and lost as they are, so it only stands to reason that the family she manages to find for herself are the pieces left behind of the wreckage.
Every single day, she strives to fill that void, to be the same fearless guardian that Finnick would've been, and while she's nowhere near perfect, she tries.
She likes to think that he'd be proud of her, of the little man that Dylan's growing into, of the way they've all managed to come together in their shared loss.
Just like his mother and father, Dylan takes to the water like a fish, and though he wasn't born in District Four, there's no doubt that he belongs here, that this is his home. The salt water flows like blood through his veins, the tide continuously beckons to him, calling him home. It's through Dylan that Johanna learns to trust the water again, so much so that now she no longer associates the droplets beading on her skin with the unrelenting pain of torture. Now, whenever the ocean clings to her skin, a smile crosses her lips because it reminds her of days spent thrashing around in the waves with Dylan.
Clenched in his small, freckled fist, he holds out a plastic bag, and when she kneels down to his level, she notices a tiny fish circling around. "I caught this for you! Caught it with my own two hands in the tide pools outside." An unwavering pride shines through his toothy grin, and for an instant, that smile is worth more to her than all the fish in the sea.