all the time in the world [elmo latch]

elmo latch

3 ratmases before the 1st hunger games

They race downstairs when they wake, tiny barefoot banshees squealin’ like pigs before slaughter, but I’m already there with a grin stretched ear to ear. “Ma let me open my gifts while y’all slept,” I tease, tongue out. The twins’ faces puff up, cheeks sticky from midnight-snuck bonbons turnin’ red as my shiny foil wrappin’ paper, but before they start their whinin’ Pa, with an armful of firewood, opens the front door. The second he sees their snotty noses and swollen eyes he drops his gaze to me.

“Elmo,” he chides, placing the wood by the fireplace, “none of that on this warm Ratmas morning, yeah?” When he turns to the girls I roll my eyes into outer space.

“Sorry, Pa,” I say. They’re just too dang easy. But his back’s already to me, his focus on the twins and their constant needs, their grubby fingers lockin’ ‘round his neck, and Ma, grease-stained apron and all, comes from the kitchen laughin’ like there's no tomorrow. I slump onto the floor, back against fresh chopped wood, and watch them play. Watch Pa sneak a hand around Ma's side to tickle her, watch the twins giggle, beggin' to be picked up.

Finally, I’ve had enough. “Can y’all do that after we open presents?” It only takes a moment for me to regret that, as Pa carries the girls to me and drops them, then wraps us all in his sycamore-strong arms. I fight it, the twins laugh louder, and Ma even louder from the sidelines, taking in her favorite people on her favorite day of the year. We have all the time in the world.