Leaving the Ground Behind
Leaving the Ground Behind
Leaving the Ground Behind
I dragged the cart full of packages behind me just as I did almost every day of the week. Over my sides, shaking slightly in the wind, were my letter bags. They hung just right so that they didn’t interfere with each flap of my wings.
Each flap of my wings... Once I tried to count how many I took while on my mail route, but I stopped somewhere in the mid three thousands. I may be patient, but I’m not that patient. I wasn’t even a quarter of the way to my next stop.
Sure, I could have just done some basic math to figure it out, average my flaps per minute and multiply by the time it takes me to get from one stop to the next, but that would defeat the whole point of it. It wouldn’t distract me for nearly long enough. Up here, any distraction is a welcome one. Gosh, that one time I talked to a bird... that wasn’t pretty, looking back.
Huh, now that I think of it, talking to myself isn’t that much better, is it?
Oh well, it’s not like there’s anypony else to hear me. I could just shout and curse at the top of my lungs, and nopony would ever know. So whatever, I might as well keep it up. At least it gives me something to do, and anything is better than nothing but wind for hours on end.
There is always looking at clouds. I always think it’s nice when some artistically inclined pegasus takes the time to make their clouds into amusing shapes. Those are always bright spots in my flight, little reminders that ponies are down there.
And then there’s looking at all the towns I can see from up here and thinking about how there are so many ponies in them, all able to talk to each other... I barely even get the opportunity to talk to my fellow pegasi much; this is higher than most of them fly. There’s no real reason to fly this high except for really long flights with heavy loads. The denser air below is so much nicer to fly through. The few that do come up here never stick around very long; they’re usually the thrill seekers, and I always need to keep moving at a steady pace. We never have much to say to each other, but I still count them as minor miracles, things that make my monotonous day bearable.
This just isn’t right, I swear! Ponies are social creatures; we need each other, and having nopony around just drives me crazy... I hope not literally... Well, still, we need more than just this sterile sky.
Steril... just like Retort always keeps his chemistry set.
Damn it all, now I’m thinking about it again. Stupid job letting me think all the time. I don’t want to think about my family when I know I won’t see them for so long... Steady Hooves is always a little bigger each time I get back... Clever Retort always has some quip that makes my day even as I cringe at it...
It’s nothing like flying, living with foals. Flying between cities, everything is always the same. There aren’t even storms to mix things up; I have to fly higher than anypony puts the stormclouds. But living with my little filly and my almost grown colt is new every second. I never know what’s coming, and that’s an amazing blessing. The things they do that come out of nowhere, from suddenly building a cannon that fires marshmallows to pretending to be a lamp for no apparent reason. Even as I shake my head in confusion, I smile. How could I not? They are the most important thing in the world to me.
And oh Celestia, their questions.
What’s Trottingham like?
What’s cloud taste like?
What’s it like to be so tall?
What’s it like to fly?
Trottingham is a city like any other. Ponies there have weird accents, though.
Clouds taste just like water; that’s what they are, silly foals!
Being tall isn’t too different for a pegasus since we can reach pretty much anything, thanks to our wings.
That last one, though. I’ve heard so many other pegasi describe it as freedom or joy or even life. They didn’t fall for an earth pony, though. They didn’t have foals who will never be able to follow them into the sky. Flight isn’t any of those things. They are. And flight is the thing that keeps us apart for so long.
No, flight isn’t something good. It’s traveling all over Equestria to support my family and barely seeing them. It’s being so tired when I am home that I see them less than I see the insides of my eyelids. It’s talking to myself because I can’t talk to my wife. It’s missing every damn thing my foals do.
No, I wish I weren’t such a strong flier. I would trade it all, every second, to be with my family. Because flying... flying is loneliness. I wish I never joined those cross country teams. I wish I never got into distance flying. Heck, I wish I had been born an earth pony. Because flying lured me in, and now it’s taken over my life. You hear that, flight? You’re a trap. You’re a parasite. You gave me little gifts, and now you’re taking everything that’s really important to me.
So, I have been reduced to talking to an action... That’s promising.
I... I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living like this. I’ve got to find something else, anything so long as it’s close to home. Somepony else can have this nightmarish job. I swear, the sky is choking the life out of me and killing my family.
To that I say... Buck it. I’m quitting, and my last flight will be going home. After that, no more flying. Because leaving the ground behind also means leaving who I really love behind too.
Author's Note
Written for EQD's Writer's Training Grounds #004: "Rainbow Falls".
