Author's Note
I had a very angsty day today, so I tried to work it out with this story. It helped me a lot. I hope it's relatable or helps someone some way.
Thank you, guys. You all are the best fans ever.
Enjoy!
Somewhere That's Green
Starlight looked down. Her saddlebags sat atop an empty bed, packed completely with only the necessities she would need to survive. Bits, water, food, and a few items she simply wanted to have with her. She hadn’t thought this day would come, and now that it had, there was a distinct sense of unreality about it. A dream-like quality came with today, that she couldn’t shake no matter how much she tried to shake it off.
Today, she was leaving home.
At sixteen, she was a bit young to be doing so, but she had the determination, the strength, the smarts, and the drive to do it. Her father, though loving as he was, smothered her with his affection. Feeling as though she had no friends here, her father was the only real tie she had to her home. A part of her felt terrible for leaving him behind, because somewhere in the back of her mind she knew how hard this would be for him, but the more dominant part could practically taste the freedom now just outside of her door. She hungered for freedom, to be able to make her own choices unsupervised, to be able to go wherever she pleased. There would be no reporting back, no dad to hover over her, no buildings that stirred up sadness with their images.
Though a young mare, she was one poised to take the world by storm. She intended to do great things, and she knew she would do them. But not while she was stuck here. Sires Hollow certainly had it’s “quaint charms”, but she wanted so much more than small town life. Her ambition was the size of a whale, and her town was just one little plankton. Not enough to feed it at all. Achieving notoriety here would mean nothing. No, the world was her stage and she was going to take the center spotlight. She felt oppressed by her small town, where every pony knew one another, the shops were always the same, and neighbors were more than a little nosy. She felt trapped here, with eyes and routines seeming to dictate her every movement. She wanted- no, she needed to go someplace where she could make a name for herself on her own.
She looked around the room, with it’s gothic nature, dark draperies, and the only bright spot in the room- a kite she’d flown recently alongside her father. Her eyes fell upon the kite, and her lips pursed at the memory as she found herself feeling distaste at her own flare up of guilt. Though she was absolutely chomping at the bit to leave her father’s overprotective and babying ways behind her, she did feel bad about leaving him. The thing about leaving home was that it made you choose what memories you would take with you, and what ones you would leave behind. Much of the good memories she would take with her would be with him. Kite flying on a Sunday, Getting ice cream together, going for walks. She knew he loved her, and that was the greatest regret she had about leaving, because she knew he would be here on his own, coming home to an empty house. He frustrated her, confounded her, made her crazy with his overprotective ways, but at at the end of the day, he was still her father, and she loved him.
A sense of finality hung in the air as she slung her saddlebags over her back. She had the feeling that she would not be back here for quite some time. She memorized this room, for she knew that even though she was eager to go, there would certainly be times she might feel homesick. The mental image of this room, along with pictures packed in her bags of her father, would hopefully negate that. She started toward the door of her room, and once she was out, took one last look, before shutting the door behind her.
Making her way into the living room, she saw her father sitting on the couch. Firelight’s face was inscrutable, likely by intention. Normally he wore his emotions on his sleeve, but today had shaken him to his core. His baby girl was moving out, going out into the world. Frankly, it terrified him. The thought of his daughter out of his sight, his protection, his comfort, was so painful he swore he felt his chest hurting. He wondered half seriously if he could have a heart attack from a broken heart. It seemed like just yesterday Starlight had been babbling to him from a high chair, and now she was leaving him.
The one enemy to all parents, however old or young, was time. Too much of it, too little of it, and the inability to stop it. So many times, they wish they could rewind it, or freeze a moment of it and live in it forever, or even fast forward it when their child was going through a difficult stage. But the passage of time was a source of fear for every parent, because although they knew change in time was inevitable, the knowledge of it’s passing, of their children growing up and not needing them anymore, was a source of constant anxiety and pressure. The need to make every moment perfect, to remember every little thing because they knew someday all they would have would be their memories, was so pressing that many times they felt as though they might break.
This was how Firelight had felt every day of his life. Particularly because he was Starlight’s sole parent, the pressure to be everywhere and everything she needed was shattering. Exhausting though it might have been, it had been worth every hardship, because her smiles were sweeter than honey and her laugh was worth more than all the gold in Equestria. There wasn’t a moment of his daughter’s life he didn’t remember, and he savored them. There came a point when every child had to leave home, and their parents were left with just those memories, and Firelight had known that. But he had dared to hope against hope that it wouldn’t come true just for him. He knew beyond a doubt that Starlight leaving would leave a vacuum in his life that nothing would ever fill.
Now, seeing her with her bags packed, he had to desperately fight back his tears. He had known how hard things were for her, and his own attempts to reach her had only made her colder to him. He didn’t want to let her go, and he knew that was selfish. But he also knew that her being miserable here would mean he would be too. If this was the only way for her to smile again, then he would do it. Parenthood was sacrifice, after all. Putting your own wants and needs aside for the good of your child. Starlight needed him to be strong today, because he didn’t want her feeling the burden of his emotions wherever she went. For her, he would keep himself together.
Starlight looked at her father, a moment of connection happening between them as they caught the other’s eye. Starlight saw her father’s reluctant acceptance of her choice, and Firelight saw the determination in his daughter’s eyes. He knew, one way or another, that she was going. It was just a matter of if he was kept in the loop or not. And if he supported her, he was more likely to be kept informed. It was Firelight who moved, rising from the couch, head crammed with all the things he so desperately wanted to say to her, but mouth staying shut because this day was not about him, it was about her. He went over to her.
“Do you have everything?” He asked. His voice sounded surprisingly strong, considering the circumstances.
“All set.” Starlight affirmed.
“Toothbrush? Bits? Water? Brush? Food?”
Starlight couldn’t resist the impulse to roll her eyes despite herself. “Yes, Dad.”
Firelight felt it in that moment, the need to say something that she could hold onto in these coming months of change for them both. He put a hoof under her chin, to have her look at him, and used the other to carefully caress her cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Starlight. I know you’re going to do amazing things. Just don’t forget to remember me, okay?”
Starlight saw his words reflected in his eyes, and suddenly she felt weak, like she was about to crumble before him. Her eyes pricked like they wanted to cry, but she held back. The guilt was now a literal weight that might just send her sailing down into the basement because the ground floor was too weak to handle it. She didn’t want to leave this part of him- the encouraging and loving parent- behind. Though her eyes did not cry, her throat had no trouble creating a lump that she had to swallow to speak.
“I won’t, Dad. I promise.”
Firelight wrapped his baby girl in a hug, and Starlight reciprocated, taking in his scent, his feel, his comfort, to soak up like a sponge until she saw him again. Of all the things she would miss, this would certainly be at the top. Though her Dad was overprotective and sometimes downright frustrating, he gave her a sense of comfort and safety that no pony else could ever give her. With the world at her hooves, she knew that in times of distress, she would miss that dearly.
“I love you, baby girl."
Starlight shut her eyes, and for a second she felt like she was five years old again. “I love you too.”
That hug might have lasted hours were it allowed to go on, but Starlight pulled away. “I have to go. The train will be leaving soon.” Firelight nodded. Were he to speak, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crying. Instead, he pressed one last kiss to her temple. Starlight smiled at him, and he smiled back. She gave him a peck on the cheek. “‘Bye, Dad.”
She started toward the front door, and opened it, her father following her. Her sense of excitement about the world in front of her was renewed, and she began to walk away from her childhood home and a step closer to her destiny. She only looked back once, to wave goodbye to her father. He was smiling and waving back, despite his heart breaking inside of his chest, because he knew she was doing what she needed to do for herself. His job was to prepare her for the world, and he’d done as good a job as he could. All he could do was let his baby go and hope that she would come back someday, happier than when she’d left.
Starlight, her past now behind her as she looked toward the horizon, began moving forward. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew where she’d come from and where she’d been. All that was left to know was that she was headed for greener pastures.
