It ain’t always easy to see where a story starts or ends, even though everypony has one. Sure, there’s Granny’s little anecdotes about the one time when Grandpappy almost left Pa in the marketplace when he was just a little colt, barely able to walk on his own. Then there’s those big stories about the Princesses that span centuries of peace, punctuated with large, but generally short, sparks of unrest. Ones that take eons to see the connections and be able to tell it as history.

My story, though? I think I’m still in it. Makes the telling a mite harder, but I reckon it’s time I told at least a part of it. Used to think it’d never amount to much or be all that important, but now I wonder if it’ll help somepony else in the future. Here's hoping, anyway.

Photo courtesy of my good friend SilverMuse.