I awoke with a sense of desolation. On the other side of my bed, where a warm body should have been nestled down next to me, there was only a cold, empty spot with the sheets rustled up from tossing and turning. I rubbed my eyes, my vision blinking clearer. I was alone.
I pushed away the covers, stretching as I did so. I turned my head to look out the window; the sky outside was a hazy purple. It must have been very early in the morning. I forced myself out of my bed, and stepped into my bunny slippers. A crack of light shone from the bedroom door left ajar.
I followed it, where I found a dim glow was cast from the living room. My slippers muffled the sound of my hooves on the wooden plank floors, but there would be no hiding my presence. As I entered, I found my wife curled up on the couch, sitting stiffly under the lamplight.
"Hey," I whispered, bringing my lips to the top of her head. Her messy multi-colored hair still smelled faintly of her apple shampoo. "What are you doing?"
Rainbow Dash flicked an ear. "Sorry, I know it's late," She coughed, clutching an unfamiliar book to her chest. "Just uh, looking at some pictures."
I laid my chin on Rainbow's head. "Lark?"
"...Yeah."
"So, you finally made that scrapbook you wanted," I batted at her left ear in an attempt to get her to relax. I stifled a sigh when it failed. "May I join you?"
"Sure," I stretched my wings, then flapped a couple times. Silently, I fluttered over the couch and settled down next to Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash rubbed her neck as she released her iron grip on the binder. "I wanted to wait until there were more things to fill it with, but, you know."
I tucked my forelegs around her belly, resting my cheek on her shoulder.
"I know."
Rainbow Dash paused, then she opened to the first page. The dreary color of the picture carefully glued to the center of the page filled in the street that I knew to be Partridge Avenue. I knew, because even without seeing the dry, cracked red lettering of the sign, I recognized the office of Ms. Two Bits' Home for Orphaned Foals. I was so excited that day.
I had been pestering Rainbow Dash for over a month about the possibility of raising a foal. She would often make some comment about not having the money for a fancy transer that Unicorn doctors can provide, or not wanting to do it artificially (after all, neither of us were, quote, "packing any extra artillery").
Anyway, I finally convinced her that we were ready, and so we got in touch with an adoption program. They directed us to the orphanage in Manehatten, and we were off. Two Ponyville Pegasi, gliding down the street as the ponies below flocked back and forth in every direction. It was a weekend, so it was rather busy.
The pony who worked the front desk had looked young. Barely adult. But she seemed to know what she was doing, as if she had been doing it for a long time. She asked us questions about what we were looking for, that I answered the majority of.
She eventually led us up to one of the rooms where the children slept. Most of the rooms (at least, the ones I saw) were plain and bare, with only three separate bunk beds taking up space. But the one we went into, 4B, had three cribs instead. And in one of those off-white cribs was the foal that I would soon call my son.
I wanted a son. Rainbow Dash didn't have a preference. She was on the fence about a newborn, but if she had any objections, she kept them to herself. I admit, I might have roped Rainbow Dash into adopting a baby, rather than a toddler (which I know she would have preferred). But my guilt evaporated the instant I laid my eyes on him.
Lark. Male. Unicorn. Two weeks old. Parentage unknown. Oh Celestia, he was so beautiful.
His coat was a spring green, among my favorite colors. His soft mane was an oaky shade of brown. But what took me the most were his eyes. Those innocent, intelligent eyes were bluer than the ocean.
I happily walked out of the building that day, now the proud mother of my son.
"Our first picture of him." I commented.
Rainbow Dash nodded. "Yeah."
The two of us looked younger in that photo. More eager. Happier.
Rainbow Dash turned the page. The next picture was of a small group of ponies at a picnic grinning and laughing at the camera. The girls hadn’t gotten together like that for a few months, so it was a pleasure to finally go out. We brought Lark with us, of course.
We had only adopted him days earlier. The girls were all excited to meet him. Pinkie Pie, of course, was appalled that we didn't tell her that we were adopting, so she could have time to prepare a party. She managed to anyway; both a "Congratulations on Adopting Your New Foal" party and the closest that could come to Lark's "Happy Birthday" party.
Rainbow Dash had really stepped up to the plate when it came to taking care of Lark. She even learned how to change diapers. I made sure to let her know just how impressed with her I was every now and then. Of course, sometimes I had to insist on getting up at night to take care of Lark, because Spitfire actually visited with me to see if Rainbow Dash was doing alright.
Apparently, the silly featherbrain forgot to mention to her own team that her son was a Unicorn, and so she had to spend more time on the ground.
Despite our initial struggles, we both got into the swing of raising a foal. And I knew this outing would definitely be good for us. I enjoyed spending the afternoon getting fresh air, talking with my friends, and showing off all the wonders of nature to Lark. Coincidentally, that was the first day I tried nursing Lark.
"I remember that." Rainbow Dash murmured.
"Mhmm," I poked her side. "You were late."
Rainbow Dash scrunched her nose at me, but we both smiled. She turned the page again.
The colors on this one were brighter; it was taken with a much higher-quality camera, which was a gift from Rarity. In it, my parents both cooed at Lark, who was cradled in my mother's foreleg. They were pleasantly surprised to hear of our adopting Lark.
Rainbow Dash dozed peacefully in the background, thankful that somepony else was there to take over the crying bundle of energy. Oh, how that little rascal had no idea the spoilings that were coming his way from my parents. They were so eager to be grandparents; they always wanted at least one grandfoal (though they never hid their shock at which of their offspring married Rainbow Dash).
"Did your parents know we had adopted yet around then?" I asked.
Rainbow Dash tittered, her face turning pinkish. "No. I didn't get around to telling them."
The next page made Rainbow Dash perk up. I was holding Lark up so he could see a racetrack made of cloud. I was a bit nervous about taking Lark up quite so high, so I made sure Twilight placed a cloudwalking spell on him, just in case. We were in Cloudsdale to watch Rainbow Dash's Wonderbolt derby. Rainbow Dash, naturally, only appeared in the photo as a spectral blur in the distance.
After the race, when we caught up with Rainbow, Lark stretched out his forelegs to reach for her. My eyes widened when he mumbled out, "Waynbooh!"
Rainbow Dash practically exploded with glee. Lark's first word was her name.
I giggled as I pictured Rainbow Dash crouched on the floor in front of Lark, encouraging in a bright voice, "Mommy. Can you say, I love you, Mommy? How about, Mommy is the awesomest pony ever?"
The next page was less than spectacular: just the three of us sitting around our dinner table. I took it because shortly before, little Lark had just performed his first spell. Oh, he had almost always been doing small amounts of levitation, but nothing ever so concentrated as turning his apple juice into orange juice. How he even knew what orange juice is is beyond me; I never let him drink anything so acidic.
But it was a huge step for a Unicorn foal, so I knew I had to save this memory. Before Rainbow Dash went to go refill Lark's sippie cup, I rushed for the camera. I had started doing that often.
Lark's starting to walk on his own? Got it. Lark's eating solid food? Got it. Lark's grown another millimeter taller? Got it.
Well, I didn't take a picture of him for every millimeter. But still, our pantry wall was scarred with pencil marks indicating his growth.
One picture showed us posing for a family photo. Lark, with his long, unkempt mane (I wonder where he got that from) was grinning as he clutched an official-looking scroll. At Twilight’s positive recommendation, we sent an application for Lark to attend Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. We were so proud when he received his acceptance letter.
Both us of beamed proudly for the picture. Rainbow Dash was strong enough to hold back her tears until afterwards. Sure, moving to Canterlot for a couple years would be a bit of a hassle, but we wanted Lark to get the very best education he could. He wasn't sure he wanted to be a sorcerer, or even a scientist, which of course was fine by me. But I knew for certain that with the opportunities in Canterlot, Lark could become whatever in the wide world of Equestria he wanted to be.
And hold the phone, look at him! I grinned as I studied Lark's face in the picture. How was it possible for a foal to grow so big so fast? Well, he ate every meal like it was his last (again, like another certain pony I know...). He was turning into quite the handsome young colt. Rainbow Dash had tortured herself over how big our little tyke was getting.
"No, you're not allowed to grow anymore!" She had mock-pouted one day, blowing raspberries on his belly. "You have to stay mommy's little acorn forever!"
I laughed with them then. I knew one day my little Lark would leave the nest, but I laughed. After all, I didn't expect him to leave so soon.
The next picture was of Lark sitting alone on a cot. He had been complaining of nausea and fatigue the previous night, and he had a migraine that morning. I demanded that we take him in to see a doctor. Rainbow Dash jokingly brushed it off as Lark just needing a headache pill and a nap. I was... speechless at what we learned.
Lark was sick. Not, like he had a bug, or a bad case of the pony pox. He was sick. One or both of his parents had a... disease, when he was conceived. It was genetic. He was born with it. Why we only found out just then still staggers me. But I still had hope. I mean, magic is capable of the most impressive feats imaginable. You would think curing one teeny tiny little disease would be a snap for a master Unicorn.
You would think.
Rainbow Dash and I must have scoured Equestria looking for somepony, anypony who could give us more than a shake of the head and an, "I'm sorry."
I felt Rainbow Dash's body tense, and I could tell she was remembering the anger that I felt back then, as well. The fear, most of all. But anger, too.
The last photo, the very, very last was of us. Just us. We both snuggled up on Lark's bed, the poor, frail thing curled up between us. Although his skin burned like fire, he shivered almost nonstop. The doctors had nothing pretty to say about his condition.
Rainbow Dash was reading aloud one of her Daring Do books. She had been so proud that Lark loved them. She choked up every now and then, but she finished the book that day. We couldn't leave. I think we spent a whole week in that hospital. Waiting. Hoping.
Our hope lasted until that day. That day, Lark had coughed as he whispered hoarsely, "I'm tired, Moms. I'm just gonna nap for now."
Rainbow Dash bucked anything and everything when we got home that night. And I let her.
I felt betrayed. The last moment I shared with my son was during his suffering. That was the last memory I had of him.
No first day of school. No first sleepover. No first date. No graduation. No first job. No Cuteceañera. No wedding day. Just him burning up beside me, too weak to move.
Over three dozen frozen moments in time throughout a four-hundred and eighty-five day period. Those three dozen would never be enough. Those four-hundred and eighty-five would never be enough.
A single teardrop fell down from Rainbow's eye. Then another, and another. She didn't sob; they just came pouring down her face like a faucet.
Rainbow Dash shut the binder before she spilled any more tears on the paper. She shuddered, balling up once again. I hugged her close, my eyes starting to water, as well.
"Shh, shh. It's okay."
"I-I just miss him s-so much." Rainbow Dash hiccupped, burying her face in my mane. I swallowed, petting her as gently as I could.
"Me too."
If only we could have him back. If only for one more day.
That's all I need (bonus)
"After Daring Do saluted the patient Precipita, who stood waiting for her first adventure, there was only one thing to do- take off into the open sky to look for the rest of the Enchanted Artifacts of the Ancients. Daring Do couldn't wait to see what she was going to dig up next."
My lips wore a thin smile as I finished, my mind having been whisked away by the ghost of pleasant memories. I looked up from the book in my hooves, registering a slight breeze rolling through the air. Invigorated by the fresh scent of grass and a guaranteed sunny day, I inhaled deeply, taking care not to damage the worn blue binding of my book as I closed it.
"...The End. Wow. I was nineteen years old when I first read that. Can you believe that?
"...Yeah, me neither. What was I thinking, right? Anyway, I just wanted to come say Happy Birthday."
I rubbed the back of my neck, averting my eyes.
"You would have been five... Sorry Mama was feeling sick, so she couldn't come, too. She told me to give you her love."
I paused to let my words sink in.
"...We miss you. We miss you very much... Did I tell you that I retired?"
I laughed wryly.
"I think I'm the youngest 'Bolt to do that. But yeah. I just- I had enough, I guess. Now your mommy's just a plain ole weather pony. Again."
I looked down at the small patch of blooming flowers. "That's weird, isn't it? These are gardenias, your favorite. Now, I'm not exactly a flower-type kind of pony like your Mama is, but let's just take a moment and be grateful you picked up her thing for gardening.
"...Because they smell good. Like, really good. I didn't really notice when I first brought you the bouquet... Do you think somepony had them planted?
"Yeah, they must have. I mean, no offense, but it ain't me who takes care of these things. I'm not good at taking care of things."
I shook my head violently.
"There I go again. Making this about me. This isn't about me. Today is all about you."
I set my book down, laying myself down next to the lovely carpet of natural perfume.
"You probably would have your cutie mark by now. Ever wonder what it could have been? A chisel? A wheel? A jousting spear?"
My eyes flittered back to the white petals inches from my face. The scent still tickled my nostrils.
"Or maybe, just a gardenia. Who knows?"
I sighed deeply, staring up at the clear sky. I began to tingle as the sensation of cute little phantom hooves began to prance up and down and all over my body, just like those mornings I had been abruptly awakened to witness finished art pieces.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but I had your whole life planned out."
I giggled lightly at my own words.
"I wanted to be there to share your first drink of hard cider. You'd probably hate it, but it doesn't hurt to try things.
"Oh, and I had this whole gig planned out: whenever you brought home some cute filly- or colt, I guess- your Mama and I would scare the hide off of them. Well, assuming you didn't already tell them your moms are worldwide celebrities.
"They'd think twice about keeping my Lark out past his curfew once they found out your Mama once faced down a dragon!"
My laughter increased, causing my eyes to tear up. My laughing fit turned into a coughing fit, and I waited a few minutes to let my breathing return to normal.
"...I wouldn't care if you didn't make curfew, you know? Mama definitely would, so don't tell her I said that. But I remember being in those horseshoes. Kids need space.
"That doesn't mean I'd let you live like it's the Wild West, like your uncle does. Luna knows, you certainly got along with him... By the way, if you ever got a stallion-bun, I would probably disown you."
My smile faltered, and I facehooved. "I was kidding. That was a joke. I wouldn't. I would never... Besides, you could totally rock it."
I stretched my wings as I stood back up.
"Well, that was it. I'd better go now. See about taking care of your Mama."
I grabbed my book, giving the cover a brush.
"We've only got two more left, and we'll have finished the series. How about that?"
I smiled down at the marble headstone. I raised a hoof, skimming it along the top four letters expertly engraved into the stone.
"...Goodbye, little Lark."
Again, my gaze drifted downward. The gardenias at my hooves only slightly quivered in the soft wind.
"Give my thanks to whoever tends to these the next time you see them, okay?"
As my wings carried me up into the air and away from the sea of memorials, I took one last look at his tiny spot at the base of the hill. One more wouldn't hurt.
"I love you." I whispered against the current.
I flew back home before I too became lost in the pull of the earth's breeze.