I could have sent her back...

Dear Diary,

Yesterday was a very bad day, and because of it, today I felt pretty stressed. More so than usual, you could say. I checked under my bed for that comic, but when I found it, it had apparently been ripped in half by "whomever" had last used it. I'm not exactly mad, but the stuff Dashie saw in there couldn't have been good for her. On the bright side, foals grow up a lot faster than human children do, so maybe she at least understood it?

Or maybe I should have just thrown that smut away the day I found her, and I shouldn't be trying to rationalize. Yeah, that's probably it.

But, long story short, I took a walk. I wanted to just go around a couple blocks, but that kinda changed. I walked to the baker's and bought a few cupcakes to munch on, then I took a turn at the intersection of Columbus and Jade and just kept on walking. Heck, I can't even remember if it was a right turn or a left turn. I made so many turns today that there's no telling where I was at any given moment.

I walked quite a bit. Again, more so than usual. Much more. Typically, my walks would last about two or three hours. Today, I started bright and early, and just walked until the sun went down. It wasn't good for my feet, but I wasn't exactly doing this for their benefit. Instead, in my time walking these streets, I discovered something that perhaps I should have discovered a very long time ago. This city really didn't suck, when you looked at it from the right angle. All my life, I've pretty much just stayed in Central, with the occasional trip downtown to see movies and stuff, but until just now, I'd never really explored the marina, or the financial district. There's a massive plaza in the middle of town with a statue the size of my apartment building, and before today, I've never paid it any mind.

And it really was a pretty good statue. You could argue that the subject wasn't the most special thing in the world, since it was just of a man who used to be mayor in the 1950s petting his dog, but the craftsmanship was amazing, and the sheer height of the thing could easily leave you just staring blankly at it for hours.

But, realistically, I moved on after about ten minutes. I still had a lot of city to see. A statement like that would have killed me inside on any other day, but I guess I'd grown up a bit in the last few hours.

I passed a very neighborly residential district, where dozens of friends were all gathered around a barbecue grilling burgers and complaining about politics. I guess it takes a fry cook like myself to see the irony in cooking hamburgers for fun.

I walked through Chinatown and bought a splendid bowl of noodles from a nice old Japanese lady. This was about the only time the whole day when I took a break, but I just had to sit down and savor every bite.

And then, at long last, around sunset, I somehow found myself at the bus depot. In a stroke of luck, a bus leaving right then and there was scheduled to make stop at Central (about a block from my apartment) in less than two hours.

I figured, "Why not?"

So, I paid the fare, took a seat next to a gentleman in a green t-shirt, and we just talked about video games the whole way back. At least until the last twenty minutes, that is. The second to last stop was where he lived, and when he got off, his wife and children were right there waiting for him.

The last leg of my journey was made in complete silence, except for the constant whir of the bus's engines. When I got home, there was Dashie, like I expected, just relaxing in my chair, watching TV. I guess I felt kinda jealous. There I was, hating the very essence of this city for my entire life for no good reason, while Dashie has just gotten here, and had already experienced far more of the city than I probably ever will in my life. And from the sky, at that.

I feel like such a jerk.

Tonight, the lock came off, and the window came open. Being as the TV was right next to the window, Dashie couldn't help but take her eyes off the idiot box for a few seconds just to look at it. For the first time in months, those curtains were flapping in the breeze again. Dashie looked at it, then at me, then at it, then back to the TV, and then finally back to me.

"I've changed my mind," I said, apologetically, "Just don't stay out too long, don't fly too low, and stay away from helicopters."

Dashie locked her eyes with mine, clearly pondering what I had to say, then, without a word, turned back to the TV and just kept watching.

Too little, too late? Perhaps. Either way, I propped the window open with an empty soda bottle to let her now it was an open invitation.

I realize now that I haven't been the best father. I was so preoccupied with safety that I hadn't thought about anything else. And some of the things I think, say, or do when I'm angry are... unacceptable. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, except even Jekyll is a spiteful idiot in this case.

I could have sent her back, and I still can. But I'm going to give parenthood one more shot. Maybe I can change myself, and in the process, change the way that Dashie's life is heading.

I've never even given any thought to her future. I'm not going to be around forever, so do I just tell her about the mirrors on my deathbed, had her off to someone else I trust, or is she just supposed to sit around and starve after I die?

There are a lot of things I need to rethink in my life, and in hers. I just hope I can find some answers.