“Applejack’s cryin’ again.”
Big Macintosh looked up from his book. Apple Bloom had descended the stairs just now, staring at him with melancholy eyes the color of apple juice. Across from them, near the fireplace, sat Granny Smith in her rocking chair, at work on her knitting. She too had looked up when Apple Bloom made her announcement.
Granny Smith looked to Big Macintosh. Even though her other features had aged, her eyes were always convincingly young, Big Macintosh thought—they even had the same color as the family’s youngest member. But even they lost their sparkle when her granddaughter spoke up. Those eyes (ancient, yet young) quietly asked Big Macintosh to see his sister upstairs.
He put down his book and got up. Apple Bloom stepped aside as her big brother ascended the stairs. At the top, he hesitated. He felt his little sister’s and grandmother’s eyes—both the color of apple juice, both pleading with him—scanning him, urging him to continue.
Slowly, Big Macintosh made his way to Applejack’s room. He could hear the sobs even from where he stood, her mournful sounds haunting the hall. In his mind, Big Macintosh went over the things he could say, the things he shouldn’t say, the things he couldn’t say, the things he should say but would never have the courage to say. He was at Applejack’s door now, and waited for the sobbing to cease.
Almost a minute after they stopped, Big Macintosh made up his mind and opened the door.
From where he stood, Applejack lie on her side on her bed, facing the wall away from him. Her blonde mane and tail, usually tied into ponytails, had been left unattended to this evening, and lie tousled around her body like a golden ocean tossed about. Although the sobbing had gone, it left shuddering motions in her sides in its place.
Her hat—the hat she won at the last fair she'd gone to with her father—hung from the corner post of her bed.
Big Macintosh cleared his throat and swallowed. “...You OK, Applejack?”
Silence. “Ah’ll be fine,” came the quiet reply, coupled with what sounded like a hiccup. “Ah’m allus fine.”
More silence. Big Macintosh shifted his weight from one side to the other awkwardly. “You… You wanna talk ‘bout it?”
“You arready know, Big Mac. Y’arready know.” Her voice was flat, devoid of the raw character and courage she normally possessed.
Not knowing what else to say (as he hadn’t come to any sort of conclusion as to what he could, should, couldn’t, or shouldn’t say before), Big Macintosh drew nearer to his sister. Stopping at her bed, he lowered his head and nuzzled her.
He felt her turn around to her other side to face him. Before he opened his eyes, he felt her forelegs wrap around his neck and hold him tight. When he opened his eyes, he was met by a pair of bright greens, soaking in a puffy pinkish red. Big Macintosh put his own forelegs around Applejack.
The siblings embraced, Applejack shaking as if afraid that should she let go, Big Macintosh might disappear and leave her alone.
“Y’allus knew the right thing t’say,” Applejack said. She made a sound that was between a choke and a chuckle.
Outside the room, Apple Bloom looked at Applejack’s door, slightly ajar, forlornly. She had heard her two siblings talk this way so many times before, and she had seen her sister cry so many times before, and she had seen her big brother comfort her sister so many times before. But she never understood why, and it was for this reason that Apple Bloom was scared.
It didn't happen very often, but when it did, it shook Apple Bloom. She and Applejack would be outside playing after chores were done, only for Applejack to slow down and begin to cry. They would be inside, it would be Applejack’s turn to help Apple Bloom with her homework, only for Applejack to break down completely. Applejack would be reading Apple Bloom a bedtime story, and…
…Apple Bloom occasionally wondered if it was her fault. Had she said or done something wrong to make her sister upset? She would never cry around Big Macintosh or Granny Smith. It was only ever on certain occasions when she was with Apple Bloom. Whatever it was Apple Bloom did, she wished she could take it all back, if only it meant her sister could smile again.
She felt a hoof touch her shoulder. Apple Bloom turned around and was met by her grandmother, who motioned for her to come back downstairs. Sitting down in her rocking chair, Granny Smith looked at her granddaughter, whose face was still colored with concern.
“Why does Applejack cry?” she asked innocently.
Granny Smith had attempted to busy herself in her knitting, but found she couldn’t continue. She looked up at her granddaughter. She was so young. So innocent of the confusing, frustrating, unfair and casually cruel ways of the world. So beautiful. Granny Smith wished that she’d never grow up.
But taking in her current dilemma, Granny Smith realized it was time. It was time for Apple Bloom to grow a little bit older. It was time she knew why Applejack cries.
“It was a long time ago,” Granny Smith began. “Back when… well, you were too young at the time. You were still just a baby. AJ an’ Big Mac was still kids. In fact, AJ was even littler than you.”
“She was? Is this about when she moved to Manehatten?”
“Naw, this was b’fore all that. Although it was only shortly before then.” Granny Smith’s eyes shifted as she wondered how she could phrase what she had to say. It was time for Apple Bloom to know. It was time for her to grow older.
“Didja ever wonder why AJ left ta begin with?”
Apple Bloom scratched her head. “She said she didn’t wanna be on th’ farm.”
“That’s true. After… After what happened, she dint wanna be on th’ farm. But t'be perfectly honest, Ah don’t think she really wannit t’be anyplace at all. Ah think she just wannit... t’go away.”
Apple Bloom became confused.
“Lemme see,” continued Granny Smith, scratching her chin. “before she left, AJ… AJ was greatly affected by sum’n. She has…”
She paused. FIdgeted. Sighed. “...She got scars that run right deep, down to her soul, Apple Bloom. It’s affected her more than it has her brother, Celestia only knows how he copes.” She felt her eyes brim with tears as her ancient voice began to crack. “Celestia only knows how Ah cope. Sometimes Ah wunner if Applejack’s th’ only one with a soul here ‘sides you.”
Apple Bloom became afraid.
Granny Smith looked away, then back. She was stalling, obviously. It was time for her granddaughter to grow older, to become more aware of the world she was living in, no way for her grandmother or siblings to protect her from what the world would offer her or do to her… She had to continue. She hated it, and no words could properly describe how much she hated it, but she had to continue.
“Th’ fact is, Apple Bloom, th’ reason AJ left is ‘cuz she couldn’t cope.”
“Cope? W-With what?”
Granny Smith took a deep breath. This was it. Time to grow older, Apple Bloom.
“… AJ… could not cope with yer parents’ deaths.”
Granny Smith let the words hang in the air as Apple Bloom’s face became difficult to read. A child hardly understands the concept of death—more than half the reason a naughty little colt would go out of his way to step on bugs, more than half the reason a well-meaning filly may capture a frog and forget to feed it until it dies. But it looked like Apple Bloom had suddenly lost something she didn’t even realize she had.
Apple Bloom had become a little older.
“Ah… Ah thought it was allus jus’ us,” Apple Bloom stammered. “Jus you n’ me n’ Big Mac n’ AJ. I din’t know we…”
“Everypony’s got parents,” Granny Smith stated sagely. “Even Ah had parents. Hard t'believe, considerin’ how old Ah am, but it’s true. You had a ma an’ pa, an’ they was the same as AJ’s an’ Big Mac’s. An’ they was good folks... but they're gone now.”
Some silence. Apple Bloom’s heart became heavier and heavier. Her lips and eyes became hot. She sniffled, ducking her head as the tears began to roll down her little face.
Granny Smith flew from her rocking chair—aching joints be damned—and held her little granddaughter, her beautiful little granddaughter who was no longer innocent, who had grown a little older today.
“Ah, Ah never knew…” Apple Bloom croaked.
“Ya din’t have ta know,” Granny Smith replied. “They din’t live long ‘nuff to make such an impact on yer life ‘s they did ar’s. S’long as we never forget ‘em, an’ keep ‘em in ar hearts, it’ll hurt less an’ less ev’ry year.”
“B-But,” Apple Bloom said. The words refused to leave her mouth, so they left her eyes instead, as tears. She collected herself, and tried again. “But they’re gone, Granny Smith! They’re gone an’—an’ Applejack’ll never see em again!”
Granny Smith hugged her granddaughter tighter. “Hush, baby. That ain’t true. Dyin’ don’t mean ya never see em again. Death ain’t ‘good-bye’. It’s ‘See ya later’.”
Apple Bloom looked into Granny Smith’s eyes as she continued. “They’re in heaven now, Apple Bloom. They’re bein’ taken care of, an’ we’ll all join em eventually on our own time. So it ain’t good-bye, not really. It never is.”
The sunlight from outside began to fade, coloring the walls purple and orange. Evening colors.
“So why does Applejack cry?”
“She cries because she misses em terrible, Apple Bloom. From now till the end of her life, she’ll miss em. But she keeps goin’ because she’s got me, an she’s got Big Macintosh, an she’s got you.”
The paintings on the wall became covered in the dimming light of the setting sun. Soon it would be Luna’s turn to watch the land, her shadows dancing in the moonlight as the stars all shone vigilant in the sky, her graceful darkness speaking to anypony willing to listen through the sound of crickets in concert.
But until then, Granny Smith held Apple Bloom, and Big Macintosh held Applejack.
After that sun had set, and after that moon had given way to morning, and after weeks had passed, and after months had passed afterward, Applejack had forgotten that particular evening. It was sometime in the morning, after she had fed the animals, that Apple Bloom came to see her.
“Ah wanna show you som’n,” Apple Bloom said.
And there, past the fields, and past the orchard—there, at the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres, stood Big Macintosh and Granny Smith, their smiles long and wide. With them stood Applejack’s friends: the studious Twilight Sparkle, the ambitious Rainbow Dash, the energetic Pinkie Pie, the elegant Rarity, and the diffident Fluttershy. Behind them stood the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Miss Cheerilee and her students, Filthy Rich, the Cakes, the Mayor, her cousins and uncles and aunts, and everypony else Applejack recognized. All present looked excited, as if something miraculous were about to happen.
“What’s all th’ commotion?” asked Applejack.
Twilight Sparkle and Rarity pointed to a pair of tarps, one at each side of the entrance. Pinkie Pie produced a drum from nowhere in particular and began a drumroll as Rainbow Dash cleared her voice.
“Fillies and gentlecolts!” she announced. “We are gathered here today, to present to you the once-in-a-lifetime event! Before us today stands a monument: in honor of the hard work, the dedication, and the overall sheer, crazy, holy-cow-I-can’t-believe-they’re-THAT-awesome radicalness of the Apple Family!”
With grand sweeping gestures and enough bravado and bluster to cause several theatre groups to explode, Rainbow Dash whipped up a frothing excitement from the crowd with her introduction. At the end of her speech, she stopped and then bowed and pointed towards the tarps. “Behold!”
And with that, Twilight and Rarity removed the tarps to reveal something breathtaking.
At the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres stood two statues: one a powerful stallion, the other a beautiful mare, both apparently blessing anypony who would pass through these gates. Applejack recognized them immediately as her parents. The crowd cheered and applauded as Applejack, in dumbfounded wonder, slowly walked around the statues, observing them in every last detail with wide, childlike eyes.
As the crowd began to pass around pieces of cake to celebrate the new orchard ornaments, Apple Bloom explained everything to her big sister: how she told her classmates about what made Applejack cry, how her classmates told Miss Cheerilee, how Miss Cheerilee told Twilight Sparkle, how Twilight Sparkle told her other friends, how Apple Bloom had gotten the idea to make the statues, how everypony in town pitched in money to fund the statues, how Pinkie Pie invited the entire town to this celebration, how she even got the other Apples to attend…
…As Apple Bloom’s cavalcade of words continued, Applejack stood still, as if in shock. Her friends slowly gathered around her, wondering if she was all right. She didn’t seem to notice them until Pinkie Pie tugged on her tail.
They all shared some silence, as Applejack’s eyes went from the statues, to her friends, to her family…
And just like that, Applejack began to cry again. Apple Bloom gasped and held her sister tightly.
“Ah-Ah’m sorry! Ah only had those old photos to work with, an’—”
“No, no, it ain’t that, sugarcube, it’s juss…” Applejack removed her hat and wiped her eyes, sniffling. She looked to Apple Bloom with a big smile on her face. “Tears 'kin mean more’n juss sadness 'n heartbreak, Apple Bloom." She picked up her little sister in a tight embrace as their friends looked on. "This... This is the happiest I been in awhile.”
And they laughed and spun around and danced, young again, innocent again. Beautiful again.
And that is why Applejack cries.
