I had lived in this house ever since we settled down in Ponyville, back when these lands were nothing but grass as far as sight could reach. One of the first real residencies in the city. And so, despite the many fixes it had gone through, the steps cracked as much as my old bones did. Every step was a symphony of agonizing noises.
Luckily, I made it alive downstairs, and after catching my breath, I walked slowly but surely to the kitchen to start off with my chores. First duty of the day: make breakfast for those four rascals upstairs. Outside, the sun hadn’t even risen yet, barely even showing Princess Twilight had any interest in rising it thanks to the dim yellow light just over the horizon. The rooster hadn’t seen it yet, for he was still fast asleep on his perch.
I opened the cabinet to get my cooking implements, but after reaching for it, something in my back cracked and I winced. Time hadn’t been nice with me, nor with my back. As I went back to four legs on the floor, I rubbed the spot that hurt to try to relieve some pain, technique which failed. I ignored it. It’s not like this was anything new. For a long time now, these pains had proven to be quite stubborn to get away, and I had stopped caring. Not like I didn’t know this was gonna happen.
I needed two pans, so I held onto the wooden counter and reached for it with my teeth. I grabbed the pan and started pulling back.
My right hoof slipped.
Despite being barely a yard, such a fall would have me bed-ridden for a few days. So in the last moment, I managed to grab onto the counter again, but the jolt made me let go of the pan and it fell. First into the stove, which produced a metallic clang, and then it bounced to the floor.
I dropped my ears to stop the noise from making my head hurt, but that wouldn’t hush the noise it created all over the house. I sighed. Oh well, at least one was out. As I reached for the second one, I heard frantic steps upstairs. I had learned to identify the sound of the steps of each of this house’s inhabitants, and those heavy-yet-not-so-heavy steps could only belong to one pony.
One pony that would be pissed once she saw me here.
I went on with my task of retrieving the pan as the steps came down the stairs.
“Granny!” I heard her cry and run to the kitchen. “What in Tarnation are ya doin’!? Are ya okay!?”
“I’m fine, Applejack,” I claimed as I climbed down from the counter. “Just a little slip-up. No biggie.”
“Granny,” Applejack finally appeared within my aged vision. She stared at me from my side as I placed the pan on the stove. “Ya heard what the doctor said! No chores for ya.”
“No chores my rear!” I replied with a scoff. “I’m not that old!”
Applejack was about to say something but decided against it. “Never mind. Granny, think about yer hip and back!” she took the fallen pan from the floor. “You’ve only gotten worse lately, disobeyin’ 'round all day.” Applejack was shoving the pan in my face with an accusatory look. The pan was mocking me, amused by the problem he had caused me. “Granny, you should restin’.”
“Applejack, stop whinin',” I took the pan from her hooves and put in the stove. “We can’t have anypony else skippin’ chores, with Sugar Belle pregnant.”
“She’s pregnant, but she ain’t handicapped! She can help you with your chores, while you rest-“
“I ain’t havin’ none of it, Applejack, ya hear?!” I screamed. “I ain’t goin’ back to bed!”
“And I ain’t havin’ ya gettin’ hurt!” Applejack replied, frowning. Upstairs, another set of hooves was heard, these ones way lighter. Soon after, heavy ones appeared. “I’m sorry Granny, but ya ain’t young anymore. I know you hate bein’ held back, but ya have to understand yer not capable of doin’ everythin’ on your own. Not anymore.”
At these words, AppleBloom and Big Mac appeared in the door. AppleBloom was still rubbing her eyes and Big Mac hadn’t even bothered to take his cap off. AppleBloom yawned and looked at me.
“Granny? What are you doin’ out of bed? Shouldn’t you be restin'?” she wondered. My ears dropped.
I had feared this day. The day these kids I raised all on my own would think of me as someone who couldn’t bear for herself. The day they feared even breathing would hurt me that they’d rather have me on a rocking chair than doing any sorts of work, watching the fields until my dying breath. And I hated the thought. I know they’re just looking after me, but… I don’t know, it no longer feels right.
Resigned, I allowed Big Mac to set me in a chair while Applejack began working on the breakfast and AppleBloom went back upstairs, claiming she was going to brush her teeth. Moments after she climbed, Sugar Belle came down, her round belly not slowing her down too much. She greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek and then she greeted me.
“Good morning, Granny! How are you feeling today?” she smiled.
Heavens above, she really is a sunshine.
“I’m feelin' quite fine today, filly.”
“And quite adventurous too,” Applejack claimed, still clearly miffed, mixing the pancake batter. “Would ya mind givin’ me a hoof here, Belle?”
“I’ll gladly help!” she happily trotted to help Applejack cutting some apples and berries.
I smiled fondly, remembering old times when I was the one who had to cook for my grandchildren. I remembered baby AppleBloom playing with casseroles and wooden spoons while I tried to keep two young and much-too-eager-to-help Big Mac and Applejack from making a mess out of our kitchen. Fond times for sure. These rascals had been my pride and joy ever since…
The smile melted off my aged face.
Ever since Bright Mac had died.
I sighed quietly, to myself, making sure not to alert the younger ponies.
Life had not been easy. Not for me. It never had. Born in a poor, traveling family that dealt with seeds of all things, we always had it rough to make ends meet. Pa had to feed all five of us out of selling seeds. We all helped to collect them, but even then it wasn’t easy. And even after Princess Celestia allowed us to settle down in what would later be our beloved Ponyville, and like I told young folks many times, orchards don’t grow overnight. And we had to endure hardships and shortage of food until I found those Zap Apples.
Farm work ain’t easy either. As I looked back I quickly realized that most of my happiest memories (my wedding, the birth of Bright Mac and all my grandchildren) took place on the grounds of Sweet Apple Acres. I realized I had barely left Ponyville in all my life. Every inch of this land contained bittersweet memories of the years I had spent here.
Bright Mac.
He was the last thing I had left of my husband. Bright Mac was so much like him, in so many ways. Ah, my son. My dear, beloved son, my only child, with those deep green eyes two of his children acquired (sweet AppleBloom, much to my joy, had my eyes). Green eyes he took from his father. And my darling Buttercup too, one of the best wives ever to touch this farm.
Why had they’ve been taken from me too? Why? Why was I the one who had to bury my partner and my son? No one should have to bury their children, so why me? Why did my wonderful grandchildren have to be left alone in the world? I never had time to mourn. AppleBloom was but a baby when her parents died. She has no memories of her own about them, she knows what she’s heard. That means she had no pain under the absence of them, but what child should grow like that? And since then my Applejack had held to that hat he wore all the time, which he had made her promise to hold on until he was back; and my Big Mac refused to let go of his yoke, claiming there was no bigger tribute to his father than keeping plowing the fields he loved with his yoke.
I never insisted much on making them let go of those things. That was how they dealt with their sorrow.
But I made sure they never forgot him, much like my husband had been forgotten by the younger Apples. I wanted my son and his loved wife to live on his children, to live on their smiles and their eyes. And they proudly complied with that wish.
My son, rest well, your children carry your legacy with pride.
My husband, don’t worry, I still remember you.
I had promised Buttercup I would take care of them. It was a promise she made me make being ignorant of what her fate would be later when she put AppleBloom in my arms one last time, Big Mac and Applejack by my side. I remembered her smiles even through her pain, her devotion to her family, her admiration towards me, and those turquoise eyes filled with a childish marvel.
My daughter-in-law, rest assured, I’ve raised them well.
Applejack and Sugar Belle had already finished breakfast, while AppleBloom and Big Mac were ready to go on with the day. They all sat down around the table and we started eating. I felt suddenly drained of my energy. It was too damn early in the morning to drown in melancholy, and I couldn’t seem to find my appetite after my trip down memory lane.
Applejack asked me if I was feeling fine. I didn’t want to trouble her with my problems, so I simply told her I was feeling drained. I assumed the scolding would come, but it never did. Applejack calmly suggested me to get back to sleep and wake up once I felt better.
Sleep. Sleep is useless right now. Sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired.
And my soul felt exhausted.
I had fought all my life to go on. I left my family my legacy, and in my wrinkles I held stories. Had I told them all? How would ponies remember me? Would they tell stories about me too? Would I be forgotten as well?
My legacy was surely not as great as Applejacks. Equestria would remember her forever. She was a hero, and I was barely the daughter of a merchant, a farm mare.
Would I be remembered?
AppleBloom helped me get on my hooves and stayed by my side as we made our way out of the kitchen. As she laid me down in my bed, she kissed my forehead and claimed she would be leaving for school. I could still not believe she was graduating this year. She was no longer the baby Buttercup left in my arms to care and love in her place. Her big ribbon disappeared behind the door.
My sweet AppleBloom, will you remember me?
Big Mac came by before going to do his labors. Sugar Belle was with him. Big Mac made sure I didn’t need a thing before leaving as well, leaving me with Sugar Belle, who stayed by my side to keep me company until I fell asleep. Through my window, I saw Big Mac pulling carts towards the orchard.
My dear Big Mac, will you remember me?
Sugar Belle was softly humming a tune while embroidering a blanket, meant for her colt. She was drawing with thread designs of apple and pear trees, harmoniously mixed together. By the ground, a fawn jumped after a butterfly. Sugar Belle smiled fondly while glancing at her round belly.
My lovely Sugar Belle, will you remember me? Will your child remember me?
“Granny?”
Applejack.
She came into the room carrying a tray, on which she had placed a plate of nuts and raisins, accompanied by two hard-boiled eggs and a glass of fresh apple juice. She smiled at me and placed the tray on my bedside table, next to the picture of my wedding day. I sure looked pretty in my early days.
“I’ll be workin’ outside in no time, but I brought you these in case your appetite comes back,” she caressed my greyed hair. “Sleep, alright?”
I nodded.
“I’ll stay with her for a little while until she falls asleep,” Sugar Belle reassured her. “I’ll be doing her work today after that.”
“That would be nice, Sugar Belle, thank you. With the Zap Apples just around the corner, we have a lot of work to do.”
Sugar Belle smiled and nodded.
Applejack left, a smile on her freckled face, like the argument of earlier hadn’t happened. She had grown up to be quite a mare, and I couldn’t be proudest of her.
My beloved Applejack, will you remember me?
“Granny! You’re crying!” Sugar Belle took my hoof. “Are you alright?”
I hadn’t realized tears were slipping from my eyes. Why was old age like this? I couldn’t seem to control myself. Sugar Belle wiped the tears from my cheeks and that only caress made me smile through the tears. I took her hoof and squeezed it.
“I’m perfect, younglin’.”
I was. This life wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. Worth it every second, every joyful or painful moment, it was worth it. My life might have not been notable, maybe not even worth remembering, but it was a great life anyway. And I had seen quite a lot of great things, hadn’t I? I had witnessed the birth of Ponyville and watched it grow into what it is today. That’s something pretty great, right?
Sugar Belle seemed worried but said nothing. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” she suggested.
Sleep.
Perhaps I’m more ready for sleep than I thought.
Yeah, sleep sounds nice.
Author's Note
I always felt Granny Smith was a very underrated character. Can we talk about the strength of this mare? We see nothing of her husband in the show, and she raised Bright Mac on her own. Sure, with the help of her relatives, but she was still a single mother. And what about her three grandchildren? She raised them alone as well.
Anyway, I wanted to explore her character a bit more deeply.
Hope you enjoyed it!
~Midday Giggle
