I Would Wait a Million Years

by _NAME_

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, Romance
Length: 1830

A collection of over fifty years of letters written by a stallion to his wife who is rarely at home because of her job. In each letter, he expresses his love for her and how much he misses him, but doesn't give them to her until the day he dies

A collection of over fifty years of letters written by a stallion to his wife who is rarely at home because of her job. In each letter, he expresses his love for her and how much he misses him, but doesn't give them to her until the day he dies.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-08 01:35:16 UTC

Hopefully

I swear, these days seem to drag on forever without you. On my days off work, I find myself staring out the front window, just watching the city and the ponies in it. But, more often than not, I find myself searching the faces of anypony who walks by, examining each for yours.

It is like drifting down a creek without a paddle when you are gone, to use that rather cliché phrase. Besides working, I have very little else to do without you by my side. With this new job of yours keeping you away for so long with such unknown intervals, I find both our home and my heart very empty.

I think, to be more precise, these few months away from you have been like drifting down a creek without a paddle in a boat with no bottom. I have to cling to the sides just to stay afloat and pray that I do not hit any rapids.

I received your letter this morning, my dear. I did not recognize the mailing address. I do not pretend to understand your job or what it is you do, but I know that it makes you happy and that is all that matters. Of course, it also provides for most of the income, because my meager occupation certainly does not.

In your letter, you mentioned that you should be back sometime within the next four months, hopefully.

Hopefully, my love, hopefully.

Books

The candle on my desk grows short, so I must be brief, my dear.

I picked up your book today, but I have my doubts of getting through it all. You always were more prolific at language than I could ever hope. I attempted to read through the first chapter, but could not make it halfway through your lovely writing and diagrams. I don’t believe that I will ever finish it.

But no worries, I will treasure it forever, for it came from your mind.

Even now, it sits on my bedside table. Maybe, when you return, you can try to explain some of the easier points.

On the subject of books, I read a very nice one the other day. It was simple enough for even me to understand, with my limited intellect. And I know that you would stand up for my intelligence, but I am nowhere near as smart as you, my dear, and nowhere near as smart as others.

I am eagerly waiting for your return.

Sickness

I am sorry for the lack of letters lately. I went through a bit of an illness and could not muster the strength to get out of bed, let alone write. Fiery pain coursed through my veins like the never-ending loneliness that I feel when you are gone.

But please do not fret. After about five days of trying to work through the illness, I managed to drag myself to a doctor, who managed to fix me up.

As of now, six days later, I am in perfect health again, and missing you all the while.

The resilience of the body is a wondrous thing, is it not?

Snowfall

Today was Hearth’s Warming. I awoke to find a surprise waiting for me in my room, though no pony had delivered it. My window had blown open in the middle of the night, covering my room with fresh, white snow.

It took me seven hours to shovel all of it back outside, but the damage was done. Most of our room was waterlogged and damp and most of my possessions were damaged.

And, my love, your book was ruined, but these letters were untouched. I hope one day in the future, you take as great a joy in reading these and living my life as I had writing them.

I went over to your parent’s house for dinner. They were happy to receive me, though I could see that they would have loved to have you there as well. I admit, I would have loved to have you there, but I understand why you cannot. I have never complained before and I will not start now.

We set a spot for you and we ate quietly for most of the night. After dinner, we sat down in the lounge at talked about trivial matters. Halfway through, though, talk turned to you.

Your mother told me of the day you were born.

She said that when you entered this world, the doctors, the nurses, your mother and your father were all silent. Nopony knew quite what to say, so you cried to fill the silence and you kept crying until your newborn lungs could not keep up.

I always admired that of you, your ability to fill a room with your voice and never take a rest until a matter was resolved. I just never knew that you began training so young.

I left your parents just before midnight and returned home. I am writing this letter by the light of the moon as I gaze out over the snowy night. All of my candles had burned down several days ago and I keep forgetting to buy more.

There is a large snow cloud rolling in from the east and it threatens to block out the moon’s light, so I must end here and yearn for the day when we can look out over this view together.

Blue Skies

I wonder sometimes the sky. Outside of the window, I can see pegasi soaring through the air, high above us ground-based ponies, without a care in the world. I imagine flying through that vast, blue emptiness, flying higher and higher until the clouds blend into the ground below and the blue begins to turn into black and the stars reveal themselves to me.

But then, I blink, and I’m on the crowded ground, forever limited by my own four hooves and my horn. I glance behind me, at my back, and I see my smooth, wingless coat and I look back up at the sky. I clench my jaw and I jump, hoping that, maybe, I might just hover into the heavens with you.

But I don’t. I can’t.

You are a child of the sky. A mare forever unrestricted by the limitations of gravity and petty physics, for wherever there is room, you can fly there.

I only hope that you fly back to me soon.

The First

There is so much to tell you that I cannot put into words. Thoughts bubble to the forefront of my mind like tears accumulating on the floor. They mix and coalesce, but none ever seem to come to fruition and force themselves out of my mouth and into your ears. Instead, I blink and find myself sitting down, watching as the words flow into my hoof and out of my pen. As I blow on the ink, I hope that the written word can do more than the spoken could accomplish.

I hear you move, but I cannot see you. I feel your presence, yet I cannot smell your heavenly scent. You are absent in my heart, but you are all I can think about. You fill me, complete me, and surround me and at times I feel as if you look right into me.

At night, I feel your body next to mine, but when I turn to look, I remember that there is no room in this bed but for one pony, one pillow and one sheet.

When I awake every morning, for a split second, I think I see your lovely face, but as I blink away the sleep and the tears of joy, I find myself staring at the wall and the tears come back.

I find myself missing you, and I cannot find the will to stop.

These first few weeks since your promotion are the worst. I can only imagine how you feel.

I count the days until your return.

Shadows

Was that you outside my window last night?

I awoke, strangely and suddenly, around midnight last night, and, upon looking out my window, I was startled to see a pair of vibrant, clear eyes staring back at me. Your eyes if I’m not mistaken.

But before I could make a move to open the window, there was a flutter of wings, and you were gone, once again flying out of my life.

Of course, you had just left the previous morning, called away to Canterlot for some sort of business, but Canterlot is not that far away. You always loved nighttime flying, so it’s not unbelievable that you might have went for a leisurely night flight, only to find yourself back at our home.

I stared out of that window all night, hoping that you would come back, straining my eyes in the moonlight, looking for the briefest glimpse of a shadowy figure flying in the night sky, but I found nothing. The sun rose and the day began, without so much as a passing glance to what might have been.

So close and yet so far, a simple pane of glass separating the two of us.

I loathe to admit it, but with the sun rising further and the effervescent dawn skies turning to blue, I cried.

I cried like a foal.

Kindness

I visited a very nice café today, down on the corner of Rose Garden Road and Cobbleback Court. They had the most delectable scones, and I must remember to take you there when you return. I sat out on the patio, and looked out over the hustle and bustle of the city.

Across the street from the café, a young mare was selling some hoof-knitted clothing and decorations. I watched her for some time, as I ate away at my lunch. Not a single pony stopped at her stall, not a single pony even glanced in her direction! I could see their eyes slide right over her and look at the high-end jewelry store next to her instead.

Finishing my lunch, I paid and strode over to the poor mare, who was staring dejectedly at the ground. She did not notice me at first, so I stood there and casually perused her wares. It was several moments later that she finally realized she had a customer.

We chatted briefly and I paid for a very nice fleece blanket that I knew you would just adore. She insisted on a cheap fee, telling me that her creations were not worthy of being higher-end.  I told her that to pay such a price would be insulting to the both of us and paid her nearly quadruple.

The smile on her face was worth the small hit to my bank account.

Laden with your new blanket, I went on home and laid it over your chair, so that you would see it whenever you came home.

I look at it now, and I smile.