With the sun still sunken below the horizon, Apple Bloom wearily roused from her sleep. The rooster hadn't yet sounded his early wake up call. With a slight shake of her head, Apple Bloom wiped her eyes and sat up in bed. She carefully stepped down on to the creaking wooden floor, trying not to disturb the rest of the family. Without even adorning her hair with the signature pink bow, Apple Bloom crept down the stairs, listening to the soft clicks of her hooves against the green, wooden planks. She let out a breath, reaching the bottom of the stairs where she would be out of earshot of the rest of the family, as she didn't want to wake them. It wasn't right to disturb them this early, it was a holiday. Though the work on the orchards never ceased, the Apple Family always took breaks on the holidays, doing only what was necessary to keep the trees alive another day. Luckily, the weather often took care of that job, providing the trees with sunlight or occasionally some rain.
The kitchen seemed oddly quiet to Apple Bloom without Granny up. She was always cooking something in here, or cleaning up another one of her messes. This morning, that wasn't the case, as Apple Bloom was alone, in the dark of the early dawn. The kitchen, for now, belonged to her. Apple Bloom could do what she pleased, and that was her intention. Stepping out into the center of the room, Apple Bloom took in a deep breath, burning each memory of this moment into her mind. Even when she was slow and aging, Apple Bloom wanted to be able to remember this day. Every year on this exact day, Apple Bloom carefully preserved each second in her memories. Though she always celebrated this momentous occasion differently each year, she wanted to remember each and every year, not forgetting even the slightest moment.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts of the fog that bogged her down, Apple Bloom opened up the Apple wood cupboards, searching through the spices first. The young mare dug out the cinnamon and nutmeg, along with a few others. Setting them down on the counter, Apple Bloom shut the cabinet and opened the one directly to the left, collecting the brown sugar, flour, and walnuts. Putting those with the nice array of spices, Apple Bloom went to the fridge to collect the last of her ingredients. With milk and a few apples in hoof, the earth mare carefully walked back to the counter. First, Apple Bloom peeled all the apples, a slightly mundane task. Depositing the peels in a silver pail on the counter for pig slop, Apple Bloom went back to her cooking. After cutting up the apples and walnuts into smaller chunks, the youngest Apple tossed them into a small, metal bowl. Mixing in the rest of the ingredients, Apple Bloom was left with a thin, pale batter, bits of nuts and apples mixed in.
Satisfied with her work thus far, Apple Bloom set out her favorite appliance; the waffle iron. It was simple and quick to use and it yielded great results, and today, everything had to be perfect. After letting the gridded press heat to a suitable temperature, the batter was poured in, the lid quickly shut. Almost immediately, the warm aroma of spices spread through the air. Savoring the wonderful scent, Apple Bloom pulled in deep, calm breaths, letting herself be lulled into a true sense of peace. A true sense of happiness. It wasn't odd for these moments to be few and far between in the hurried bustle of everyday life. Though living out on the farm was better than anything Apple Bloom could ever ask for, the work was long and hard. Taking in another breath of the delicious mingling scents in the air, the cream colored mare let herself simply enjoy for a moment. Apple Bloom simply wanted to be, letting all of her worries slip from her mind.
The sound of the buzzer made her jump, pulling Apple Bloom from her daze. Changing the setting on the iron from cook to warm, Apple Bloom hurried to the pantry, pulling out an unopened bottle of maple syrup. Setting the small bottle beside a nice, clean plate that she had gotten out the night before, Apple Bloom let a slight grin tug at her lips, for her work was almost finished. Finally, Apple Bloom filled up a glass of ice water and returned to her waffle iron. Carefully, she placed the waffle on the plate and covered it with syrup, steam drifting up from the hot meal. Carrying the glass in her mouth and the plate on her back, Apple Bloom cautiously exited the kitchen, heading for the back door of the modest farm house.
Once out in the cool, spring air, Apple Bloom let her hooves carry her out through a long field, tall grass tickling at her legs. This was a path not normally traveled, only once a year did any pony come back here. Soon, the land split into two tall hills, a small grey spot visible at the top of each. Heading to the left, Apple Bloom climbed up the grassy land, careful not to spill a bit of the homemade meal she had worked so hard to cook. At the top of the hill, Apple Bloom slid the plate and glass down to the ground, in front of a worn stone. Sitting down, Apple Bloom ran her eyes over the familiar stone, as she had done this day, each year before. With a soft wind blowing, the scent of the waffles was whisked away into the cool, spring air. Letting out a soft breath, Apple Bloom read the kind words on the stone, carefully engraved by a skilled hoof. 'Willow Blossom'. Down a bit further, the stone read. 'A mother. A worker. A kind soul.'
"Good morning. Happy Mother's Day, Mom," Apple Bloom said softly.
