Of Marshland and Memories
I reached into the Potomac, pulling the floater up into my kayak. Water dripped and ran down the length of my weathered arm, occasionally getting a detour from the wrinkles in my skin. The rope came with it. I tugged on the twine, pulling it in further.
I saw the cage before it broke the surface – a slightly rusted and very bent metal box finally seeing the light of day after about two nights under the waves. It broke surface with several splashes, the water running off of the bars and back into the bay. Trying to remain as still as I could, I grabbed the top of the cage with an old hand. The clicking and clacking of my newly-caught blue crabs vibrated up through my arm. Fantastic.
Once the cage was about halfway out of the water, I put the double-sided oar as close as I could to my body and reached over to pull it up. The cage was thrown onto the boat; onto that plastic, red area which served as the only shielding for my legs. Three crabs moved side-to-side on the bottom of it, their claws initially snapping at nothing but air, but then settling down and remaining still.
Looks I’d be eating good tonight.
“But, wait, how do we get them out without being pinched?”
Her voice crept back into my mind, just like it always did whenever I went crabbing. I held the cage there for a moment, staring at the idle Chesapeake Bay blue crabs nestled in the corner of the crab pot.
“It’s simple, sweetie – we just dump ‘em back into the tub we got back at the house. We don’t really touch them at all.”
Yeah, that had been a good day for crabbing. I think that was the day we caught the biggest one I had ever laid eyes on.
The glint of sunlight in the metal of the clips, the same one which were roped on my kayak, redirected my mind to the task at hand. I unclipped one of them, ignoring the irritation of my arthritis, and clipped it around on of the bars of the cage. I reached to the other when something rustled in the marsh.
On any normal occasion, you won’t hear anything by the marsh. I don’t particularly care whether I catch the chance to see fiddler crabs or not, so I don’t bother in trying to be stealthy about anything. The noise, though, seemed to be coming from the land.
I looked over, adjusting my fisherman’s hat as to keep the sun away from my eyes. I couldn’t really see anything, but something about that particular spot in the marsh seemed familiar. The size of the trees, the type of grass that was growing up on the banks…and the smell. The smell of seawater and fish, the type you only find out about a mile from the coast, wafted through my nostrils lazily.
This was the spot, wasn’t it? Could… could it be?
My heart almost jumped before I set it at ease. No, it probably wasn’t going to be what I was looking for. But, an old man could check, couldn’t he?
Was it worth it to check? She wouldn’t be there, I knew she wouldn’t – but, maybe, just for old times’ sake…
I unclipped the cage, and gently dropped it back into the river. The floater was chucked in soon afterwards, as I wiped my hands clean of the smudge. Those lucky crabs get to live another day.
* * *
The cerulean kayak slid up on the shoreline, coming to a halt on the soft sand just outside the seagrass. I placed my oar gently on the sand, next to it.
The boat rocked when I put my shaky hand on it, and I sat completely still, not daring to try to stand up until the motion stopped. The weak tide rolled back to its source, and, with a great deal of effort, I got my foot out of the kayak. My boot dug into the sand a bit, becoming a root for a wobbly and not-exactly-agile old man like myself.
I stood up tall, half in the kayak, half out, and swung my other foot out of the vessel and into the shallow water, just as the calm tide rolled back in, wetting the laces of my boot. The kayak floated a bit upwards as the weight left it. Leaning on my hip with one hand for support, I grabbed the handle at the end of the kayak, now firmly in my grip. I swung the boat around until it was completely beached.
The oar, not soon after, was placed in the boat. Or, at least, as best as it could be. I placed my hands on my hips, letting myself exhale triumphantly. I’m not as good as that as I used to be. She always was, though.
“Come on, let’s go!”
“And where are we going?”
“Exploring, of course! I’ve read all the books on all the wildlife – there’s so much in these forests!”
Her enthusiasm for the mysterious and adventure still brought a smile to my face.
The noise had since disappeared, but as I looked around the marshy point, jutting out into the Potomac, I realized this was the very spot. The tree I was looking at was like a beacon of truth. That mark, the one achieved only by the brightest of lights, still remained in the thick oak. A shadow.
The shadow of a kneeling man, shielding his eyes, was burned into the tree.
Breath released itself from my lips. I hadn’t looked that fit in years.
I was an elderly man now – approaching his seventies, wearing Bermuda shorts and a “Kansas City Barbershop Convention 2000” t-shirt that he probably should’ve gotten rid of about eight years ago. His worn-out fishing hat had hooks on it that never got any use, and despite his arthritis and occasional back problems, he was still generally active and, for lack of a better word, fit.
But, not as much as the shadow of a man burned into that tree.
The smell of that seawater drifted back into my nose again as I looked at my own shadow from thirty or so years ago.
“Are we out in the middle of the ocean or somethin’? The water hasn’t smelled like this since Grampa took me deep sea fishing.”
“No, dear, still the Potomac. We must have hit a really salty area, I guess.”
“Maybe so. You think we can we take some of the salt and use it for fries?”
A chuckle escaped my throat. She had been so inquisitive, but beyond that she had actually applied her knowledge. Ambitious thoughts were one thing she had in abundance.
Sea salted fries. At that moment in time, I had dismissed that as a silly notion. Now, with the type of technology that was out, I wouldn’t be surprised if such a task could be achieved.
“Oooh, oh no!”
“What, what is it?”
“There’s – there’s a bee!”
“Where is it?”
Actually, at that moment in time, I don’t think I was thinking much about the ability of sea salt to be used as seasoning. There was a more… pressing matter at hand.
“Oh, it’s right – ow! Daddy, it stung me!”
My eyes found a random spot in the sand. It was nothing but a dune now – but, that had been the very same spot where she had collapsed. Where she had fallen after that damn bumblebee had gotten to her. I hadn’t even seen it.
“Daddy, help me, my throat feels funny.”
“Hold on sweetheart, Daddy’s coming!”
I took my hat off, brushing my now-sweaty forehead with it. It was awfully hot today. It had been awfully hot that day, too.
Heat seems to disappear when your child collapses before you, though.
* * *
I held her in my arms, sweating furiously, heart racing faster than a horse at the tracks. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t prepared for this.
She had been panicking, too, but had since slid down to a surreal and all-too frightening calm. Her breathing was labored, and she had a hand up to her throat.
I rocked her back and forth, as best as I could manage while kneeling on the sand. “I’ve got you, honey,” I said, “Daddy’s here. Come on, let’s go home and get Mommy and get some medicine.”
“Daddy,” she replied, her voice hoarse and hard to hear, “My throat feels so itchy.”
“Come on, I know it’s not the best, but we can get back in our boat and get the medicine and – “
“Daddy, I don’t feel good. Am I… am I allergic to bees?”
The notion had only stuck me when she said it. Martha and I had never gotten her tested for any allergies, which was too expensive for even some of the higher-class people around us. We did what any regular parents would do – we just took it by ear. I hadn’t even thought about a bee sting allergy – she had never been stung before.
They were brutal, though – I watched a childhood friend of mine slip into unconsciousness after one of the things decided to sting his arm. It was going to be bad, I knew it.
But, she had to pull through. God wouldn’t send down hell here, away from any close people, or a doctor, and especially not on my little girl. She’d be okay.
She had to be.
“… I think so,” I told her, after a pause. I readjusted my grip, and stood up on the soft sand of the marsh. “Come on, let’s get back in the boat and get you to Mommy.”
“Daddy, my throat… it’s so itchy… so itchy…”
“Come on, come on!”
I had almost reached the boat. I was a step or two away from boarding the small rowboat we had taken out. I was about to get her in.
She took the gasp.
It pierced my ears, that gasp of air. The sound of muscles straining to obtain oxygen through a rough and swollen passageway. The sound of a child’s valiant but futile struggle. The sound no parent ever wants to hear.
The sound of death itself.
I looked down at my precious daughter, whose mouth was still open from the gasp, but, she seemed to become ten times sleepier. I wanted to run onto that rowboat and push away from the beach with all the strength I had. I knew, though, as soon as I heard that gasp of air, that no matter what I could’ve done, it was too late.
Instead, I kneeled down in the sand, still cradling my precious child like an infant. I squinted at her, knowing in my heart it was too late. Tears began to form in my eyes.
“Daddy,” she said, fading away.
I grabbed her small hand, holding it tight within my coarse fingers. “Daddy’s here, sweetie. I’ve got you, I promise.”
She nodded slowly. So slowly. “My… throat… it feels… better.”
I looked at her with a pained expression, hoping that by some miracle my gaze would be the restoring breath in her world. “That’s good, baby doll. That’s good.”
Her head rolled to the side at a slow, painful pace that made every moment drag on forever. The eyelids slowly began to close shut, my daughter laying down for her nap, the same one every one in the world would eventually have to take. I gripped her hand tighter, about to murmur whatever comforting words I could, until I heard her mutter:
“Look, Daddy. It’s… it’s a unicorn.”
Her eyes closed for a final time.
* * *
“It’s okay, honey,” I said, voice cracking and tears about to run down my face, “It’ll be alright. No… no more pain.”
My head found her stomach, and I leaned on it as I cried into her limp body. My daughter… why? Why would this happen? Not to my daughter. Not to my precious baby.
I gritted my teeth as hot tears rolled down my face. I didn’t feel right taking a sob – its air was some she could’ve breathed. Air she needed, but would never have. Not now. Not anymore.
There was a period of silence on that marshy point – a period where no birds chirped, no insects chattered, a period where the tide was as silent as the movement of a cloud. The only sound was my sobbing, an action which probably could’ve been heard all around the Potomac. I didn’t care, though. I didn’t care at all.
Not her. Not her.
I let forth another sob, this time being accompanied by something that barely registered in my mind – the slow trot of hooves. Someone probably out riding. I knew there were plenty of fields for that, and I was probably disturbing their ride. Who cared? I had just lost my daughter.
Tears were still rolling down my cheeks when I realized that the hooves now sounded like they were on sand, and even closer than they were before. The rider may be checking out what was going on. So what if they did? Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing mattered.
The hooves stopped. My tears ceased only for a moment, before a sad, soft feminine voice became present.
“I’m… I’m so sorry.”
Someone was nearby. Off to my left. I turned my head in their direction, but refused to meet eye contact. “I… I don’t know wh-what happened. How was I supposed to know sh-sh-she was allergic… allergic to bees?”
Another pause. “There wasn’t, I guess.”
I looked up to the source of my voice. I planned to yell at them, scream at them for daring to say that. Having the nerve to say my daughter’s death couldn’t’ve been prevented. I knew it wasn’t, somewhere deep inside me – but nobody but myself had business telling me that.
No words came out when I saw the source of the voice, though.
She was a tall, slender winged unicorn – the size of any horse you’d see at the riding fields. Minus, of course, the wings on her side and the long, pointed horn on the top of her head. Her eyes seemed almost like humans, a lavender iris surrounding a smaller, black pupil. On top of that, the marking of a sun was plastered onto her flank – I wasn’t sure if the other side had it as well, but I imagined it probably was.
“Look, Daddy. It’s… it’s a unicorn.”
.
I just stared in awe at the creature, face streaked with tears. I was at a loss to do anything at this point.
Thankfully, the sad eyes the creature wore seemed to offer as much sympathy as her next words did.
“I… I know what it’s like to lose someone. And not being able to see them… not their smiling face, not their sweet voice… I know the pain all too well.”
Some part of my brain told me that I was talking to something that shouldn’t exist. At the moment, I refused to focus on that and focused on my daughter instead. My sweet, precious, lifeless daughter.
“She saw you,” I noted, “I don’t know what you are, or when you got here, but she saw you before she died.”
“Did she?” The creature seemed even more saddened by this, and it was now that I only realized she was talking to me. “I only wish our meeting could’ve been longer.”
“Wait, wait,” I said, my heart leaping around my chest, “You… you shouldn’t exist. Am I dreaming? Is… is she really not… is my daughter still alive?”
The creature seemed to choke back a sob. Her muzzle shook in dismal reply. My heart might as well have sunk to the bottom of the Potomac. I held my daughter closer to my body. Unknowingly, I started rocking back and forth.
She took a deep breath, somberly. “I only wish I didn’t exist right now. I’m here for a reason, Mr. Caine – but, I never – never expected to walk in on this.”
She offered a little more, in an attempt to comfort me. “But, maybe what I’m here for might set your heart at ease, if only for a little bit.”
I looked to her, over my daughter’s shoulder, through red and puffy eyes. “What could possibly set my mind at ease? Who are you – what are you?”
She put a white hoof up to her chest while her prismatic mane seemed to billow in nonexistent wind. “My name is Celestia, and I come from a far away land. I’ve been observing you, Mr. Caine – you and your daughter.”
A deep breath was released from her muzzle. “I fear, that in my kingdom, the far away land, there is trouble brewing. An old problem, one almost a millennia old, will come back in full force within the coming years. One that is sure to destroy my kingdom. The return of everlasting night.
“I know this doesn’t mean anything to you,” she finally noted, seeing my blank but grief-stricken expression, “But, the next bit might. A certain citizen of my kingdom is the only one who can stop it and save my kingdom. One that doesn’t exist.”
“What does this possibly have to do with me?” I demanded, anger and sadness mixing together to create an unstable tone in my voice. “I just lost my daughter to something I couldn’t prevent, and you’re telling me about your goddamned kingdom? Can’t you see I don’t give a damn?”
Celestia looked at me for only a moment’s pause before saying, “I can save her.”
“Leave me alone,” I retorted, “And let me be with my precious daughter in peace.”
“No, I’m being quite serious,” Celestia tried again, “I can save her. Though, not exactly in the way you might be thinking.”
My eyes met her purple ones. I didn’t need to say anything – she knew she had my attention now.
“My citizen that can save my kingdom – they don’t exist in my universe. My kingdom. They do exist in yours, though. Somewhere, in this world, there is a human with the capabilities of saving my world. A smart, intellectual child. One that has a willingness to learn unparalleled by any other.”
Her line of sight shifted, moving just down. I followed them with my own tear-stricken ones.
She was looking at my daughter.
“Her?” I asked, still looking at my recently-deceased child, “You want… her?”
“She’s the best candidate at the moment,” Celestia replied, “She’d be turned into an Equestrian – one of my kind. Her spirit would move with me, attaching itself to the correct pony when the time is right.
“In other words, one day an Equestrian will be born. Your daughter.”
I contemplated that for a moment.
My daughter remained lifeless in my hands, and here some mystical being from God-knows-where was telling me that she could be saved, effectively brought back to life as one of… one of them. Wherever they were.
I opened my mouth to speak, but I was unsure of what I could’ve said. I was very confused at this point, and while sadness still lingered, I was mostly focusing on the fact that my daughter could have life.
“She’d be in good hooves – hands,” Celestia continued, “Specifically, mine, eventually. She’d be your daughter, just without the memories.”
“She…” I trailed off, trying to grasp that, “She won’t remember me?”
“Unfortunately, as she becomes born again no memories whatsoever will be transferred. She is the same, and yet she will be born anew.”
I nodded, letting that sink in. I wasn’t considering her offer at all, there was no way I’d give up my daughter – but, now I was considering it. Why end my daughter’s life with a freak bee sting when I could give her all the years she deserves, even if I wasn’t there?
“I understand you’re going through a very tough time, and this is incredibly soon to begin asking things of you – but, I firmly believe she is the best option for us. If you so choose, you can deny at any time and I can find a new spirit.”
The large mare looked to the ground before continuing. “You have something very special there in a daughter, Mr. Caine. But, I’m sure you know that better than I do.”
My vision traveled down to my daughter, eyes closed in eternal rest. Or maybe not-so-eternal. She… she was pretty spectacular.
I knew no other kid to pick up the seafaring things I did so quickly. No other elementary schooler I knew of told you as much about the Potomac or the wildlife or even a small fraction of politics like she did. More than that, there was no kid I was ever prouder of. No child I ever loved more. She was our only child, but she was the only one Martha and I needed.
Now, she was gone. Her life cut off.
Here was the chance to reverse that. To give her the life she deserves, just without her mother and I. With new parents, but the same girl inside. Different experiences, different lessons to be learned, different memories… but, that same daughter of mine lies just beneath the surface. That wonderful, shining beacon in my life. I despised that this world had taken me from her – but, another world offered to do the same and restore her.
Martha would want no more for our daughter than for her to continue life like she always had.
I know I felt the same.
“I…” I tried to say, but the lump re-forming in my throat prohibited me from speaking. It seemed so surreal, so wrong – but, here she would just be buried in the ground. There, wherever there was, she could live. I can tell when I’m dreaming, and the cold touch of my daughter’s skin was quite real.
I sensed the warm offer of the creature called Celestia was the same.
“I…” I began again, but this time finding my voice. “I’ll let her go. To give her a new life.”
Celestia nodded slowly, a bit unwary. “Are you positively certain?”
I hesitated for only a moment before giving an affirmative. “Yes. It’s what she deserves. It’s what my wife and I would want.”
Celestia sighed. “Mr. Caine, you know not the measure of your actions. My kingdom will be saved because of your generosity. In a hard time like this, I know very few ponies that would have a bigger heart than you.” She swallowed, taking a deep breath before looking me in the eye, and saying:
“When she becomes of age, I will let her know of what took place here. I will allow her to return. You’ve given everything – it seems only fair that I should.”
I wiped my eyes clear of a few lingering tears, thinking about what she had just said.
I might see her again.
“If she comes back, it will be at this very point on the river, on a day when the sea smells like it does tonight. You will know when she has arrived. This, I promise.”
She walked forward, getting closer to my daughter. “Thank you once more, Mr. Caine, although I highly doubt I’ll ever be able to truly give my thanks.”
I nodded slowly, still holding my soon-to-be-not-lifeless daughter in my arms. “Ms. Celestia, can you do one thing for me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can you…this is going to sound weird…” I swallowed, calling to mind the eccentric name of my daughter who was going to go on and do far greater things than I could ever imagine. “Can you keep her name?”
Celestia smiled. “Which is?”
I swallowed again.
“Twilight.”
Celestia smiled a bit more, her eyes smiling as well, as I repeated my lovely daughter’s lovely name.
“Her name is Twilight.”
* * *
That shadow… the light of teleportation is one not to be reckoned with. My kneeling pose would forever be burned into that tree due to the light that Celestia managed to conjure up.
As the memory faded away, I sniffed in the air again. That brackish smell was indeed wafting from all directions, and this was the spot – the one I used to visit for years on end – but, I knew it wasn’t the time.
Just like it hadn’t been the time all those other times I went, when I used to come up here every day. Then every weekend. Every month. Every three months. I moved away, but managed to come here every year.
It’s been five years since I’ve come back. I feared I might’ve missed her, my little Twilight coming back into the world, but Celestia assured me that I would know when the time came. It never came. And it wasn’t coming now.
Initially, I was a bit depressed. Those wrinkled facial features of mine, however, curved upwards. She was living her life now. The life she had deserved to live and was probably now living, enjoyably. What more can a father ask of her daughter than to be happy?
Nothing more, I thought with a smile.
Nothing more at all.
I climbed back into my kayak, rocking uneasily as I stepped in, and grabbed the oar. Before I knew it, I had pushed myself off and was now drifting back into the Potomac.
I moved my old, tired arms side-to-side, rowing gently and calmly. I could get the crabs tomorrow. That feeling that Martha wanted me back at the river house came back to me.
As I floated along the current, giving myself only the smallest boost with my oars, I took note of the sky’s color. The sun was just beginning to set, the clouds becoming a mixture of purple and red beneath a tangerine backdrop. The murky water turned a nice, dark blue in contrast to the almost rainbow-like sky. The scent of nighttime, as well as the sounds of nocturnal insects, kicked up.
Mother Nature must’ve been reading my recent thoughts. I beamed at the joke she made to me.
It was twilight out.
One day, there’d be another Twilight – my Twilight.
One day.
For now, I was an old man in a kayak, rowing slowly down the Potomac back to my old lady and our quiet river house on the water.
My Twilight was a girl who was living her life to the fullest extent. One that doesn’t include me, but one that existed, nonetheless.
I was more than content with that.
