rachel cohen || district five || cb || fin

I never really knew my papa. Sure, he's there in memories, sometimes a dream - just a big, warm presence who had always given off an aura of security.

Mama calls me silly, says that I was so young when he disappeared that I can't even remember his face if I tried. And she's right, I guess, because I can't. But I remember parts of him, even if I can't really figure out why.

Mama's given up hope, really. Says it's just the two of us in this life, that Papa made his choice ages ago and that he's never coming back. She believes him to be dead, and yet I don't feel the same. I don't know what it is, really, just some part of me knows. I haven't told Mama, not with certainty anyway, because I know she'll just call me silly and get back to her work.

But deep down inside I know she cares, and I know she nurses that warm feeling of hope inside her too. Maybe not for Papa anymore, but for me and her. It's strong enough to get her through two jobs and allow her to take care of me at the same time. She's done it for nearly my entire life, and she's showing no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

And soon, I'll be able to share her burden with her. Hope burns inside me too, and while it might not be alight for the same reason as hers, it is there nonetheless.

I'll find a way eventually to help, I'm sure of it. One way or another, anyway.