A dismally gray morning in early October.
And despite the weather, I go about my day’s housework with a sunny disposition.
Since Big Macintosh had missed most of Applebuck Season last year because of the Farmers of Equestria Convention, he’d graciously volunteered to cover most of the job this time around. This left me with lots of time to clean out the attic and get out some of the winter gear.
I muse at some of my old building blocks and little plastic pull-cart, busy collecting dust among the other knick knacks in the cozy little space.
And then, something stops me in my tracks. In a split-second, my cheer is gone, flushed out by a crushing combination of nostalgia, and heart-wrenching grief.
It’s a box.
A plain, ordinary cardboard box.
And yet, it brings me to tears as I begin to reminisce…
***
When I had barely turned a year old, my parents took it upon themselves to make my first official birthday extra special. They were gone the entire day and left with me in Granny’s charge while they were out, so I sat in the playpen in the living room while Granny did housework and Big Mac finished his chores.
It wasn’t long before I realized Ma and Pa had left me and showed no signs of coming back anytime soon. So naturally, I did what any infant foal would do in such a scenario.
I blew the spigot off the waterworks, of course.
I bawled and bawled until my saint of a brother came in to console me. Sweet Celestia, does he have a way with words! Before you could say “alfalfa desperado,” I was out like a light.
When I woke up, Ma and Pa were back, and with them was a great big apple cobbler especially for me. Best darn thing I’ve ever tasted. Most of it got all over my face rather than eaten, so I had plenty to save for later. After my feast, it was present-opening time, and I surveyed the stack of prettily-wrapped boxes in wonderment.
But the gift that caught my eye was a completely unremarkable box, of plain cardboard and poked throughout with air-holes.
I toddled over to the box and chomped down on it. When it failed to budge, I turned on my three hooves and gave it a sound wallop with good ol’ Kicks McGee. The box gave a rustle, and suddenly the lid burst open and fell forward. Two deep brown eyes stared at me from out of the darkness.
Then, in a flash of tawny and white fur, the overjoyed inhabitant of the box leapt out and pinned me to the floor in a literal “dog pile,” peppering my face with wet canine kisses. My family braced themselves, expecting me to burst into tears after being bowled over. But much to their surprise, I began to giggle uncontrollably and flail my hooves in playful glee.
“Her name is Winona,” Ma told me, smiling that smile that always made me want to cuddle up to her.
“Nona!” I squealed, giddy with laughter.
That was the first thing I ever learned how to say.
***
In the summer after my fifth birthday, my Ma and Granny Smith decided to take my brother and me on a road trip to the Marediterranean Sea, to unwind and have a fun break from farm work. Of course, I took Winona along with me. And deciding to do so was of the best decisions I’d ever make.
You see, it was around this time that I started having an obsession with all things sea-pony. It all started after Ma told me the story of how my great-grandma was saved by a school of them, during one of her fantastical adventures. And when I’d heard we were going on a trip to the beach, I was all over the idea.
‘Cause I was gonna catch one of those sea-ponies.
When we got there, Ma and Granny and Big Mac all made a beeline for the beach, while I snuck away with Winona and made for a marshy lagoon further down the coast. The lagoon’s surface was placid, which meant perfect sea-pony habitat in my eyes.
My mind was set. I was gonna catch one of ‘em, if it was the last thing I did.
And bless Celestia, it almost was.
As I stepped on what looked just like weed-covered marsh ground, I felt my stomach lurch as the mud beneath my hooves gave way, and I was sucked into the grimy mire.
Scrabbling desperately for some sort of support, I found none, as the banks sloughed off beneath my fumbling hooves. My head went under, and I could feel the water closing in around me with terrifying pressure. It was squeezing the air out of me, second by second.
A sharp pain raked at my lungs as the sludge began to seep in, as I closed my eyes for the end.
“…….!”
But just as I did so, I was snapped awake as a firm grip on my mane began to pull me up. The murky water became slowly brighter. After what seemed like an eternity, my head finally breached the surface, and I saw two deep brown eyes watching me with concern as I wheezed my way back to life.
And after I’d fully come to, Winona helped me wash up, and followed me back over to the main beach and my oblivious family.
They never even knew what had almost happened to me, and they never found out.
***
Through the fresh tear stains and glistening eyes, I break into a smile as I reach into the box, and pull out a well-loved, faded bundle...
It was Winona’s favorite blanket. Every night, it would sit right beneath my bedside, where my guardian angel would lay. I’d scold her time and again for ripping the thing to tatters, but every night she’d give it a ferocious shaking before going to sleep.
Even while she was sound asleep, I always knew that Winona would be there to protect and comfort me, through all the hard times.
And Celestia knows, I’d had my fair share of hard times.
***
When Apple Bloom was born, I remember feeling like the luckiest filly in the world. I finally had a little sister to play rodeo with, and to teach all about apple harvest and lassoing and my other favorite activities. Things couldn’t have been better.
It wasn’t long before I found out that those weren’t… ideal games to play with a newborn foal.
Soon after being vehemently chastised for trying to hog-tie the baby during her nap time, I came to a grim realization: Apple Bloom was getting all the attention now, and I was getting squat-diddly. My whole family, even the relatives who I never got to see, only had eyes for her, and I was left feeling hurt and replaced.
And even while everypony was fawning over the baby, one friend was still devoted to me. Whenever I felt glum during the whole ordeal, she was right there, affectionately at my side and always ready with a consoling dog-kiss or two. And eventually, the jealousy went away.
Back then, I thought that nothing could be worse than my feeling of betrayal after the whole Apple Bloom ordeal. Was I ever wrong.
The next winter, not even a year after Apple Bloom’s first birthday, the unspeakable happened.
I came home from school one day to find Granny Smith talking to the post mare. Even at my age, I could tell that something was seriously wrong.
After the mail pony had left, Granny Smith slowly turned to me. Her eyes were beginning to brim.
“Applejack,” she breathed, a noticeable quaver in her voice. “It’s… it’s your folks… they…”
That was all she could say before she clenched her mouth shut. I knew exactly what was going on, and I knew she was trying to be strong for me, to not show how incredibly upset she truly was.
But that didn’t make it hurt any less. I rushed to my room and buried my face in my covers, sobbing like I never had before. Emotions of grief, hurt, anger, and confusion all raced through my head at once.
But the worst was the feeling of betrayal.
How could they do this to me? I thought I was their little filly, forever and always. Why did they have to go?...
…Did they even love me anymore?
As all these questions plagued my sorrow-stricken mind, I felt a warm presence at my side. My eyes still shining with tears, I looked up into those familiar brown eyes, those eyes that could sense my suffering, my hurt. And knew exactly what to do to make me feel even the slightest bit better.
Ever so gently, Winona nuzzled the side of my head and gave me a reassuring lick. Her eyes told me everything I needed to know. Everything was going to be all right in the end, no matter how unbearable the pain may be. And no matter what, in the face of anger, sadness, even death, I could trust in one thing.
She would always be there for me.
***
I’ve long since given up on trying to hold back the tears. They make tiny rippling pools on the attic’s dust-coated floorboards, and drizzle down my face and neck, onto the weathered old bundle as I begin to unravel it, not daring to look at what lies within. I can’t bring myself to do it for the longest time, until I finally gather the courage and glance at its contents.
It was just like you’d promised. Your love and support was unconditional, and you were always there for me, even when nopony else was.
And I let you down…
