She had bought the flowers herself.
It was a small fact, to most insignificant, but to Junebug, it was a major accomplishment; the first of many today. Daisy and Lily had been surprised by her forthrightness, but Rose had just smiled and handed her the flowers. Rose had been one of her good friends, after all.
The baskets were surprisingly light, even filled as they were with flowers (white, yellow, and blue, that was important), and Junebug was able to keep a good pace as she walked through Ponyville's streets. As she passed Sugarcube Corner, she made a note to visit Mrs. Cake sometime later that day. She had heard that Mrs. Cake's "bun in the oven", so to speak, was actually two: A filly and a colt, if the doctor was to be believed (and he usually could be).
Junebug had only stopped for a moment to get a drink from a fountain, when she heard a familiar voice call out from behind her.
"Hey Junebug, it's my birthday!"
It was Spike, Twilight's assistant and Ponyville's only resident dragon. She'd talked with him a few times before, usually while he was finding the book she'd requested, and found him pleasant, if a bit juvenile (he was a baby dragon, so it could be expected). Junebug took a moment to swallow before responding.
"Uh, happy birthday Spike!"
The habitual pause, the bit of uncertainty, it was what she was known for. When she was younger, some of the other foals had called her "Stutterbug". Thankfully the name had passed with time, but her speech had stayed the same. Luckily she lived in the same town as Fluttershy, so it went unnoticed most of the time.
As she began to walk away, Spike piped up again, his voice expectant.
"Well?" Asked Spike "Do you have a present for me?"
"Uh, I- I don't have anything." Responded Junebug, her stutter more pronounced due to her surprise.
"Well how about those flowers?" Said Spike, drawing closer. "I'll take those."
Junebug was stunned as he reached forward, and tried to rally a response, but luckily someone else intervened.
"Spike!"
Twilight, looking half cross and half apologetic, used her magic to pull spike away by his frill.
"Ugh, sorry Junebug. I think Spike might have gotten a little carried away." She said with a glare at the purple dragon.
"Uh, no problem." Said Junebug, relieved to have been rescued. "Uh, happy birthday Spike!"
As she walked away, she could hear the librarian berating her assistant. Spike had been behaving oddly, true, but perhaps it was just a dragon thing. Junebug tried to put it out of her mind and continued on to her first destination: Davenport's Quills and Sofas.
She found the little shop exactly as it always had been: small, and out of quills. She'd never understood his rationale behind the store. Supposedly by selling something big and something small, he'd be able to sell even more, but the sofa side of the business had never really taken off. Still, no matter how much anyone tried to convince him to specialize, he insisted that somebody, somewhere, needs a quill and a sofa, and he wanted to be the one to sell to them.
"Uhm, good morning Davenport." She called as she entered the store.
"Good morning Junebug." He called back from behind the counter. "Come to buy a sofa? We're all out of quills. Again."
"N-no," Junebug replied "Just, uh, just here to say hi. And to give you these." She set a few of the flowers (blue), on the counter in front of him.
Instantly a change came over the usually jovial stallion. His smile vanished, and he seemed to slump a little bit.
"Oh, right." He said slowly. "It's the third. It feels like so long ago, Junebug."
"It's only been three years, D-davenport. That's not too long."
"I suppose not." He said, his smile returning slowly, but more somber than it had been before. "And if it is the third, I need to get busy! I've got an order of quills coming in later today, and I'll need to catalog all of the sofas and I really need to get going! Thank you oh so much Junebug, for the flowers and for stopping by. It means a lot."
Junebug stepped back and smiled as the brown stallion began rushing around the store, inspecting each and every one of the sofas that had sat there for so long.
"Don't work too hard now." Junebug said with a smile, moving towards the door.
Davenport grinned back as he rushed around his store. "Too hard? Whoever heard of a thing like that?"
As Junebug closed the door behind her, Davenport slowed down. Walking back over to the bunch of blue flowers on his desk, he sighed. "You certainly never did."
Junebug continued on through town, her baskets a little bit lighter and her mind a little bit more clear. She also found herself ahead of schedule, but held off on moving on. The day was a nice one, warm, but not hot, with a breeze that ruffled her mane and caused her tail to brush up against her legs. Deciding to take full advantage of both the weather and her free time, Junebug set off for the park.
Ponyville's park was nicely kept and always pleasant, although it could get a bit crowded at times. With how pleasant it was outside, there were quite a few ponies around, but not too many that it was unbearable. Several young couples sat beneath trees and stared into each other's eyes (what they were looking for, Junebug had no idea). A mother chased her colt around, trying to get him to drop the worm he was holding in his mouth while the father, a brown pegasus with a silver mane, laughed heartily. And, of course, Lyra was sitting on her bench in her usual way (the doctor had warned her that she'd develop back problems if she continued doing this, but she persisted nonetheless), Bon Bon at her side.
Those two ponies were inseparable, but nopony was really sure what to make of them. The common belief was that they were a couple, but they'd never shown the slightest bit of romantic affection to each other, at least, not in public. Personally, Junebug didn't care one way or the other, but it was her suspicion that the two were just good friends.
Almost on cue, Lyra glanced over and caught Junebug’s eye.
"Oh hey there Peachfuzz, how's it going?" She asked, using the nickname she'd given Junebug when they were class-mates. It was a peculiar habit of Lyra's (one of many) to nickname everyone she knew.
"Oh, it, uh, it's good." Said Junebug. "I'm just t-taking a bit of a break from some errands I've been running."
"On a day like today?" Asked Bon Bon in vaguely aristocratic tones. "Why are you working at all?"
"It's nothing, uhm, big, really. Just dropping s-some flowers off to some friends." Junebug responded (Lyra never knew, and Bon Bon had only moved in two years ago). "Oh, uh, your voice changed again. Are you trying out for a new part?"
"Yes, they need some aristocratic-sounding extras for the new Shetlander film coming out, and since there's nothing else for me to do in 'Un Mare Andalou', I decided to audition." Bon Bon sighed, her voice losing the snobbish edge it had. "I just can't get it down though, and Lyra's no help with these sort of things."
"Personally I think you sound wonderfully snobby." Said Lyra.
"Thanks." Bon Bon deadpanned.
"Hmm, well, maybe it would help if you lifted your chin as you spoke." Suggested Junebug. "And, uh, make sure to look down on people too, looking like something is a vital step to acting l-like something."
"Like this?" Asked Bon Bon, lifting her chin and staring at Junebug through the corner of her eye."I don't see how this-"
Bon Bon's eyes widened as she heard herself speak. "Oh thank you Junebug! This sounds much better!"
"Sounds the same to me." Quipped Lyra.
"Oh shush you. Anyway, how can I thank you Junebug? Perhaps we can treat you to lunch?" Asked Bon Bon.
"Oh, it's no problem." Junebug said, glancing at the sundial nearby. "I've actually got to get moving again. I-it was nice talking to you."
"Well, what about tomorrow?" Asked Lyra. "I think it would be fun."
"Uh, I'll have to see, I guess." Said Junebug as she began to walk away. "I'll let you know. Bye Lyra, bye Bon Bon."
"Later Peachfuzz!"
"Yes, goodbye Junebug, and thank you again for your help."
Junebug smiled as she turned away; Lyra, despite her eccentricities, was a very kind pony, and once you realized that Bon Bon was acting (always practicing for her next role, always an extra) and didn't really think poorly of you, she became much more bearable. Junebug liked the two of them, they made life interesting around here. At least, they did on the days in between disasters (Ponyville seemed especially prone to those).
Glancing at another clock, Junebug broke into a trot. She'd spent more time in the park than she'd meant too (not that she resented talking to her friends), and ran the risk of being late. The scenery began to blur as she hurried, and she nearly lost some flowers out of her baskets, but soon she had reached her destination -the Ponyville spa-, panting slightly.
No sooner had she knocked on the door than it had opened to reveal Aloe and Lotus, the fraternal twins who ran the spa. Although they both had very similar builds, they were easy to distinguish by color. Aloe was pink with a blue mane, while Lotus was blue with a pink mane (Junebug had asked; no they didn't dye their coats).
"Good afternoon." Said Aloe with a smile. "Your timing is impeccable; our last customer just finished up."
Junebug smiled back at her friend. "Uh, thanks. I was a little bit worried that I'd be late."
"You worry far too much, dear." Said Lotus. "We're your friends, after all, and this is an important day, you could've come in during rush hour and we'd drop everything to be with you."
Junebug blushed and stared at the ground shyly. "I'm not that important." She mumbled.
The twins giggled and nuzzled their friend.
"Yes you are." Said Lotus.
"And don't you forget it." Added Aloe.
"Thanks." Said Junebug, blushing worse than ever. Her eyes widened as she remembered, and she shook herself as she reached back into her baskets, grabbing out some flowers (yellow). "I, uh, got these for you two. T-to put in the pond."
Aloe and lotus each took a bunch from Junebug, and set the flowers afloat in the water feature that took up the center of the spa. There they drifted among the lilies and lotuses, smaller and not as impressive as the other flowers, but for the three mares, they were the most important ones of all.
"Like the wind through the willows." Whispered Lotus.
"And the flowers of May." Continued Aloe.
"Although our actions may be fleeting," Said Junebug.
"Our memories are here to stay." They finished together.
"It's been three years since she said that last." Said Junebug, her eyes closed against stray tears. "So much has changed."
"And so much is still the same, my dear." Said Lotus. "We're still here, and so is Davenport, and Rarity too. We're all still doing what we love, and that's what I think she would've liked."
"Speaking of Davenport, how's he doing? I noticed that you don't have any blue flowers in that basket, so I assume you visited him" Said Aloe.
Junebug giggled softly. "He's, uh, still running his shop, selling the same old things, always running out of quills and dusting off sofas."
"I've always wondered why he sells those two things, but I've never asked." Said Aloe.
"Don't try," remarked Lotus with a wry smile. "He'll take hours to explain it to you, and the answers are just as loony as what he sells."
The three friends shared a laugh, one of those magical ones that extends to the corners of whatever room you're in. On this day it was an especially important laugh, ringing of memories and tales, shared jokes and adventures, and of friendship through thick and thin. Eventually though, as all things do, the laughter came to an end, and Lotus turned to Junebug.
"We've got some tea and biscuits if you want." She said.
"That would b-be lovely." Said Junebug.
Fairly soon the three of them were sitting in a circle, teacups in front of them and a plate of shortbread cookies in the center. They gossiped and spoke and laughed together, as friends are wont to do, and the day ticked on, ever so quickly. Before they knew it, their cups were empty and the cookies were little more than crumbs on a plate. Junebug was the first to stand, stretching her surprisingly stiff legs.
"T-thank you for the tea." She said.
"You're very welcome." Said Lotus.
"And come by more often!" Said Aloe. "We hardly ever see each other nowadays."
"I'll be sure to," said Junebug as she turned to leave. "But now I've got to get to Rarity's; she c-closes shop soon."
"See you later Junebug." Said Aloe as she waved.
"Yes, preferably sooner though." Said Lotus with a grin.
Junebug smiled and waved goodbye, then hurried out of the door.
She'd met Rarity several years ago, on a balmy summer afternoon. She'd been walking around Ponyville, which had been nearly deserted because of the heat, and had spotted a shop that was still open. Inside the Carousel Boutique she'd found the white unicorn busily working on several dresses. Even in their unfinished state, the dresses had looked marvelous and had glittered with different gems (perhaps a few too many, but everypony had their tastes, and nopony could contend Rarity's skill). Rarity didn't seem to notice that Junebug had come in, or at least that's what Junebug thought, until Rarity distractedly asked her to "be a dear and hold these things for her" before dumping a load of fabric and gems on the mare's back. A few minutes or a few hours later, depending on which one of them you asked, Rarity lifted the heavy pile off of Junebug's back and apologized profusely. She'd been in such a rush that she'd mistaken Junebug for somepony else (Junebug would later find out who, though the answer would come as a shock) and had been quite rude (Junebug had then insisted that it was no problem at all, and they'd maintained a friendly relationship since).
It was in a similar sort of mood that Junebug found Rarity as she opened the door to her Boutique. Several unfinished dresses were getting the rush treatment as the unicorn darted from one place to another, dozens of objects trailing behind her in a haze of magic.
"Uh, hi Rarity." Said Junebug, her eyes following the other mare around the room.
"Oh hello there Junebug." Said Rarity as she deftly pinned a few flowers to a dress's headpiece. "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm in a bit of a rush right now. Do you think you could swing by tomorrow?"
She didn't remember.
"Oh, no, it's ok. I'll just be going then." Said Junebug softly. As she stepped out of the shop, she made sure to drop the last of the flowers (white) on the counter. Once outside, she sighed inwardly and began to walk home.
She felt small, alone, though the streets were crowded, and altogether melancholic as she walked. It seemed to her that she was the only one who truly remembered. Davenport was too concerned with his shop, Rarity was Rarity, and even the twins seemed only to meet with her out of kindness. Or pity. How could they have all forgotten? She thought. Three years wasn't that long, surely not long enough to forget something so large.
Glancing around wearily, she noticed once more the colorful exterior of Sugarcube Corner, and, remembering her mental note to stop by, slowly walked through the swinging double doors.
Usually the bakery was a hub of activity, a place for ponies to gather and chat over a few baked goods, but now it was strangely empty, save for a tired looking Mrs. Cake going through the day's earnings at the counter.
"Sorry, we've closed early today. Didn't you see the sign?" She asked without looking up from her counting.
"No, I, uh, didn't. Sorry, I'll be going now." Said Junebug as she began to turn back. Hearing her voice, Mrs. Cake looked up with surprise.
"Junebug, it's you!" She said. "Please, stay a bit; I've been wanting to talk to you."
"Oh, ok then." Said Junebug, a little bit confused.
The two mares sat down at one of the tables and Junebug prepared herself for the awkward silence that was sure to ensue. It didn't.
"How's your mother been doing?" Asked Mrs. Cake almost immediately.
"Oh, she's been, uh, good." Responded Junebug softly, not meeting Mrs. Cake's eyes.
"Still the same, then?" Said Mrs. Cake, her eyes narrow.
"...Yes." Said Junebug.
Mrs. Cake sighed sadly. "My offer still stands you know. You don't have to deal with that."
"I-I'm fine, honest. And my mother isn't a 'that'." Said Junebug curtly.
"Of course not, I apologize."
Now the silence interrupted, halting the conversation and leaving the two ponies stewing in discomfort. A clock on the wall ticked on (the tick was off-key, grating). Then Junebug remembered why she'd come in the first place, and broke the silence.
"How are you d-doing, by the way?" She said, nodding towards Mrs. Cake’s swollen belly.
"I'm doing fine." She said with a smile. "Actually I think poor Carrot's more frantic than I am, he's been rushing about so much lately, constantly checking on me. He'll be a great father, but I'm a bit worried that he'll work himself too hard. It took quite a bit of reassurance to get him to go out and grab some more ingredients."
She sighed softly. "They're active little things, that's for sure. No doubt Pinkie'll love them to death."
"Speaking of that, how's your arraignment with Mr. Pie going?" Asked Junebug.
"Same as always, really." Said Mrs. Cake. "Those two are some of the most stubborn ponies I've ever met when it comes to deals and promises. Pinkie insists on sending most of her paycheck back to the farm whenever it comes, and they keep sending her money even though she's got a steady job. I've tried to intervene, but it's always 'pinkie promise' this and 'family duty' that. It gets to be a little tiring, to be honest."
"I d-don't think I ever expected to hear Pinkie being so dedicated to something." Said Junebug, resting her chin on the table.
"She takes promises seriously, that's for sure." Responded Mrs. Cake. "Very seriously. I'd advise against ever breaking one of her 'pinkie promises'; it's not very pleasant when you do."
"I'll keep that in mind." Said Junebug, eyeing the clock (the ticking was somewhere between b and c, and none too kind on the ears). She lifted her head and looked back at Mrs. Cake. "I, uh, need to go home now. Is there anything else you w-wanted to say?"
"Yes, don't go there today. You're making it hard enough for yourself as it is." She said.
Junebug's expression was unreadable as she got down from the bench and began to leave.
"Good day, Mrs. Cake." She said before walking through the swinging doors (if she could've slammed them, she would've).
"Good day, Junebug." Said Mrs. Cake softly, although at that point she was speaking only to the swinging doors.
For the next few streets, Junebug's steps were angry and hard, but eventually she bowed her head and walked more slowly. Her thoughts were cloudy and incoherent, darting around in her head and making her even less sure of herself. She'd known that the visit would end badly, but she'd gone anyway. In the eye of her brain's storm, she knew that the older mare was only thinking of Junebug's well being when she said the things she did, but still.
Soon she reached a small house on the edge of town. The curtains were drawn and a few dead chrysanthemums were all that remained of a poor attempt at a garden. Growing things had never really been her special talent, but that didn't stop her from trying on occasion. Slowly she pushed on the door with a hoof. It came open, squeaking on rusty hinges. The inside was dark and musty smelling. Junebug walked in slowly, keeping low and watching where she stepped. Perhaps she was asleep, Junebug began to think, but then something small and made of glass whizzed past her head and shattered on the doorframe.
"CLOSE THE BUCKING DOOR!" Screamed her mother from the kitchen.
Carefully so as to avoid stepping on any broken glass, Junebug closed the door behind her. Once she had done so, she began to edge towards her room, hoping that her mother wouldn't take notice of her and not say anything. Her hopes, however, were in vain.
"Where have you been?" Screeched her mother. "And where's my bucking salt?"
"The doctor said-" Started Junebug quietly, her eyes staring firmly at the floor.
"I don't give a flying feather what the doctor said, you ungrateful whelp!" Screamed her mother once more as another bottle, half-full this time, shot past the young mare's head, smashing against the far wall and showering her with the rancid liquid within.
A year ago Junebug would've worried that her mother would beat her, but, aside from runs to the liquor store, she hardly ever moved from her spot in the kitchen nowadays. Slowly and carefully, Junebug began to edge towards the dark hallway that led to her room, never letting her eyes leave the open door to the kitchen.
"Look at what you made me do! That brandy was expensive!" Her Mother's voice wasn't as shrill now, but Junebug could still hear the disgust in it. "I doubt that drunkard would be so arrogant if she had to deal with something like you. Bah, how can she tell me how to raise a foal if she can't even hold down a proper job?"
'That drunkard' was how her mother viewed the pony that had once been her best friend, Berry Punch. Her mother and Berry Punch were the heaviest drinkers in town, although Berry Punch did her’s socially, and seemed to have a handle on her behavior even when completely drunk. While it was true that Berry Punch was currently looking for work, that was only because she'd quit her previous job to take care of her daughter Ruby Pinch when she had come down with a bad flu. These days the two were always at each other's throats (mostly it was her mother that would start it), and Mother's mood was always the worst after one of their fights.
"Lazy. Incompetent. She would've never done this to me. Hay eating drunkard." Murmured her mother quietly before a soft thump announced that she'd fallen asleep again and alcohol proved stronger than her Mother's rage once more.
Junebug slipped down the hall to her room, where she dropped off her basket and picked up a bunch of flowers (red) that she'd bought earlier. With them in her mouth, she walked softly back to the entrance way and pushed open the door. As soon as the barest thread of light snaked into the kitchen, her mother snapped awake.
"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THAT DOOR?" She roared and threw another bottle (almost full), but Junebug was already halfway across the street by the time it smashed against the wall.
Junebug was breathing heavily by the time she reached the hill on the northern edge of the town. She'd been running quite a bit today, and it was beginning to show. Slowly, but surely, she crested the hill and looked back over Ponyville. The town was large, and still growing. Things had seemed to pick up after the last summer sun celebration, but then there must be some allure to living in the town where Nightmare Moon had appeared and subsequently been defeated. Not to mention the ruckus with discord all those months ago. As Junebug looked at what lie on the other side of the hill, however, she knew that it was unlikely that the town would expand in this direction. Not many ponies liked the idea of living too close to a graveyard, after all.
The trip down the hill was, of course, easier, but Junebug took it slow. In front of her stretched rows and rows of gravestones, going back with the years to the time when the Apples had first founded Ponyville (they had their own mausoleum, as did the Richs). It wasn't too large of a graveyard, seeing as sickness wasn't a big problem in these parts and accidents were few and far between. Still, Ponyville had a growing population of elderly citizens, and so funerals weren't entirely uncommon.
One of those citizens was here now, cleaning up a gravestone a few rows in. Mr. Waddle was one of the few ponies that visited the graveyard with any regularity, which Junebug attributed to his former occupation as a coroner. She liked the older stallion, mostly because he never really bothered her too much when she visited the graveyard. Today, however, he called out to her as soon as he noticed her coming down the hill.
"Good evening, Miss Junebug." He said in his wobbly old voice. "How are you today?"
"Uh, I'm okay." Said Junebug from around the flowers in her mouth.
"That's good." He said kindly. "You know, you're a little bit unusual, Junebug."
"I-I am?" She asked after setting the flowers down at her hooves. Junebug had always considered herself fairly normal (didn't everyone, after all?).
"Mhmm," He said, nodding. "Most young folk don't come down this way, even if they've got someone to visit, and yet you're here almost every day." (It was an exaggeration, but not much of one.)
"O-oh." Said Junebug. She knew that this was the case, of course, but she acted surprised, for Waddle's sake.
"It's not a bad thing, mind you." He said, walking over to her stiffly. "In fact, it's good of you to remember. Too many of these graves get forgotten as the years go by, and to be forgotten is the worst thing that can happen to a pony."
Junebug's eyes widened a little bit in shock. "Y-you knew h-her?" She stuttered.
"Yes, I did. Not very well, mind you, but we talked from time to time. Here," he said as he nodded towards the flowers at her feet. "I'll walk with you to the grave, and I can tell you how I knew your sister."
Junebug picked up the flowers, and silently began to walk through the rows with the elderly pony.
"Your sister and I only talked a couple of times, usually in this very place. You see, even though she hadn't lost anyone, she always came by once a week to clean the graves." He said, eyes closed in memory. Junebug nodded to herself; she'd known that.
"Most days," he continued "She and I would just exchange pleasantries, since I assumed that she had somepony to visit here. After a while though, I noticed that she wasn't tending to one particular grave. Instead, she would clean off the worst of them and spend a good while just wandering around reading the inscriptions. So one day I came up and asked her why she did it."
By then they'd arrived at the grave, a newer stone with flowers (blue, yellow, and white) spread around it. Mr. Waddle waited until Junebug had set down her own flowers (red) before continuing.
"Even with my age, I won't forget what she told me. She said that as long as she visited these graves, as long as she remembered who these ponies were, they would never truly disappear." He said, eyes fixed on the smooth gravestone.
"That s-sounds like something she'd say." Said Junebug. "She w-wanted to be an archaeologist, search for lost civilizations and all t-that."
"I would believe it." Said Mr. Waddle. "But I think I'll leave you alone for now, Miss Junebug. Thank you for letting me recollect."
"Uh, n-no problem." Said Junebug, eyes still firmly fixed on the gravestone. As Mr. Waddle walked away, she heard him say "Evening, Miss.", so she quietly returned the same.
The presence of the flowers meant that everyone had already stopped by, including Rarity. Junebug was sad that she'd missed them, but perhaps it was best that they hadn't waited for her, as she might've had to explain why she was so late. Carefully she arranged her flowers, and sat down in front of the grave.
"Hey Maysie." She said softly, more to herself than to the grave. "Things are pretty much the same as when I last came to see you. Mother's still drinking enough to kill an ursa major, Davenport's still selling the same old things, Aloe and Lotus are still finishing each other's sentences, and Rarity is still working her hooves to the bone trying to make a name for herself."
She thought silently for a moment before continuing. "Oh, there is something new, actually. Mrs. Cake is having twins! She hasn't told many ponies yet, but from how big she is, it's fairly obvious. She's still trying to convince me to leave Mother's though, and I'm afraid that we had a little bit of a fight earlier, but I know that she just wants the best for me."
Her brow furrowed as she said that. "I've got to wonder why, though. Why does she care what happens to me?"
"I care about what happens to you because I care about you." Said a voice from behind her. Junebug jumped up in surprise, and turned around to face Mrs. Cake.
"W-what're you doing here?" Junebug asked, incredulous.
"Honestly, I came to see you." Said Mrs. Cake.
"Well I-I already told you, I'm fine on my own." Said Junebug angrily.
"It's not about that. Not entirely." Said Mrs. Cake with a sigh. "It's time you moved on Junebug."
Junebug felt as if the wind had just been knocked out of her. "M-move on? What do you mean, move on?"
"It's been three years since Mayflower died, Junebug, and you've gotten stuck in the past!" Said Mrs. Cake, exasperation leaking into her voice. "However much Mayflower may have meant to you, you can't let your own life pass you by like this!"
"So I should just f-forget her? F-forget that my sister ever existed?" Junebug's teeth clenched as tried to regain her composure.
"Now, Junebug, listen-" Started Mrs. Cake, but Junebug cut her off.
"No, y-you listen! No matter w-what you say, I could never forget Mayflower, and there's no w-way I would want to even if I could!" Junebug glared up at the older mare, holding back hot tears. "I-if I forget her, it'd be like she, like she..." Junebug choked on her words, trying to get them to come clearly, with no avail. "It'd b-be like she died again! And... And I..." The fire seemed to die in her chest, leaving her cold, tears spilling down her face. "I can't let her die again." Junebug's legs buckled beneath her, and she sunk to the ground, trying in vain to stem the flow of tears that had become bitter. "Not again."
Mrs. Cake embraced Junebug, letting the younger mare's tears soak her shoulder. "Oh Junebug, I could never ask you to do that." Mrs. Cake's words were soft, barely a whisper in the still air. "I'm just worried that you've forgotten what your sister would have wanted."
Junebug ducked out of the embrace. "She wouldn't h-have wanted to be forgotten. She never forgot anypony, she e-even devoted one day every week to taking care of the graves, even though she didn't have to." Junebug's tears were stopping, and her words were regaining their strength.
Mrs. Cake nodded gently. "Yes Junebug, I remember, but look at those graves now."
Junebug cast her head around, taking in the graves around her. While Mayflower's tombstone was clean from her repeated trips (she came several times a week), the others were showing signs of neglect; dirt and moss obscured the inscriptions, and certain stones were beginning to wear down from the wind and rain. Mr. Waddle did his best, but he was just one pony, and an older one at that.
Mayflower would've thrown a fit.
"You know, Junebug, I once had a somewhat similar conversation with your sister in this graveyard." Said Mrs. Cake, her eyes passing over the other graves absentmindedly. "I accused her of living in the past, said that it wasn't good for her to devote so much time to this place. Do you know what she told me?" Mrs. Cake asked as she glanced at Junebug, who remained silent. "She said that remembering the past was a lot different than living in it. When you live in the past, you cling to what's already gone, and never get anywhere, but when you remember the past, you make sure it didn't go to waste, that it meant something, and you used those memories to move forward." Mrs. Cake smiled softly. "Mayflower always had a way with words."
"S-so what do you want me to do?" Sniffled Junebug, who was staring at the ground (she couldn't think, and yet her mind was darting in a million different places at once).
"Do? Junebug, I want you to be happy, just like your sister did, and I can tell that you aren't happy with how things are right now." Said Mrs. Cake. "You don't have to move in with us if you don't want to, but living with your mother... It's just not safe."
Junebug nodded reluctantly, but remained silent. The sun, indifferent as ever, began to dip below the horizon, allowing night to move in above the town. A chill wind (one of the few things the pegasi couldn't control) whistled around the graves, causing the two mares to shiver and scattering a few of Junebug's red flowers.
Looking up at the descending sun, Mrs. Cake sighed. "Come on Junebug, let's head back before it gets completely dark." She said. "You can stay with us tonight, if you want, and we'll talk about things a bit more tomorrow."
Junebug nodded, and then stood. "I'd like th-that." She said, and the two mares walked up the hill once more, side by side. One carrying the weight of two lives, and the other carrying the memories of one.
They would not talk much the next day, due to dragon rampage (these things seemed to happen so often in Ponyville, and yet no-one would ever be quite used to them), but later they would talk, and later they would come to a decision that they both agreed with. Yet that's the future, and what happens then is as dark and mysterious as anything. What's important is what is happening right now, and right now a young mare is finally beginning to understand what it means to truly remember.
