The Paths We Choose

Forty-eight...

Forty-nine...

Fifty!

Rainbow Dash collapsed a heaving heap into a pool of sweat that was collecting on the floor. She was panting heavily, but the intervals between her breaths became longer as her heart rate decreased. Wing push-ups had become a normal part of Dash’s daily routine ever since the accident. Even after five full weeks, she was not quite one hundred percent.

She’d had a scheduled follow-up appointment with Doctor Slice one week after being discharged. The doctor lectured her for a good twenty minutes after learning that she wasn’t following through with her physical therapy. She recalled part of their conversation.

But I just want to fly!

You can fly all you want in good time, Miss Dash. But first, you must learn to be patient with both your body and your mind.

Since being given mandatory sick leave from the Wonderbolts, Dash was finding it very difficult to fill her days with anything other than therapy. Her flying had to be limited too, as putting off the therapy for a week had greatly set back her recovery. She usually passed the time with muscle-strengthening exercises and, to her surprise, reading. Luckily, the local library had the entire Daring Do series.

It was last week when she decided to contacted her friends. Locating them all and arranging to get together by mail had been a daunting task. It was three days ago when they finally met. A Saturday afternoon in the park was the agreed time and location. Tears flowed freely when they saw each other. They proceeded to spend the entire afternoon talking about their lives, their hopes and dreams, their futures, and their past. It was a reunion they had been waiting years for.

Dash pulled her body up from the floor, dragged herself into the kitchen, and filled herself a drink of water. She chugged the entire glass, cherishing each and every ounce of the cold, refreshing liquid as it entered her parched mouth. After filling another glass, she took a seat at the kitchen table. Her eyes drifted to the refrigerator, upon which hung a photograph, recently taken, of six ponies, who were gathered together in a tight embrace.

A similar, older picture with fading edges was positioned beside it. The ponies in both pictures were the same, yet different in the most subtle of ways. In both photographs, everypony was smiling, their faces plastered with the universal sign of joy. In the new one, however, their eyes were older, and glowed with the wisdom of having seen both amazing, and terrible, things. Their bodies had aged; still young, but visibly weighed down by the invisible burden of life. Despite this, it was clear that they were happy; happy because they were together once more.

She arose from her seat and approached the refrigerator, placing a hoof on it to brace her weary body as she stared deeply into the pictures. As she did so, a long-forgotten jingle sprouted from the depths of her mind. She gasped suddenly at having remembered the tune, and slowly sang along as the words came to her.

“Do you know you’re all my very best...”

A solitary tear of joy rolled down her cheek and cascaded to the floor. She sniffed loudly before completing the jingle.

“...friends.”

She would never lose them again.

End.