Propped open by the hip, a bright light illuminates through the refrigerator door into the kitchen. For most ponies, it’s no surprise, on a day like today, when a fridge is stocked pile-high with containers full of leftovers. Stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie, the basic holiday favorites… but for Ms. Harshwhinny, if her fridge could tell a story, the piles she keeps are anything but ‘festive’.
Half empty bottles of salad dressing, a container of skim milk, a partly open can of black olives, and food that’s well on its way to expired. Blankly staring at the shelves, eyeing the sad excuse of food just sitting there, a sigh escapes her lips as she slams the door with her hip. Huffing to herself, Ms. Harshwhinny trots away with a seemingly permanent scowl on her face.
Making her way into the living room, where a blanket hung half-off the chair while another is draped haphazardly across the back, the pony with the brilliant orange coat flops onto the couch curling an arm around a nearby pillow. The only form of light in her cramped apartment in Fillydelphia is the flicker of the television. Stapled scenes of holiday cards cover the walls of her apartment, cards she kept for no other reason than to add a form of color in her drab apartment.
Even on Thanksgiving night, a holiday most ponies in Equestria hardly know or care about, the closest to tradition for these city ponies is to sprawl out in front of the television. And if that’s not enough, it’s merely a holiday for ponies to stuff themselves all day till they’re as bloated as a blimp. Whilst most ponies would bustle around the busy streets, likely at the end of a day spent hopping from one family function to another. Anything better than being cooped indoors all day.
To say this day is particularly ‘low key’ for a pony like Ms. Harshwhinny, there’s no nicer word to say… because that’s just Thanksgiving has always been for her. With no specific place to go or ponies to meet with, it’s hard for ponies like Harshwhinny to get caught up in all the stress. No sense in preparing 20 pounds of food, while keeping the apartment clean before the guests arrive. No worries over baking pie or preparing a side dish (or two) to bring to some pony’s house.
In Harshwhinny’s case, she seems like the type of pony with hardly ‘any’ worries over such trifle things. Leave the concerns over the day to every pony else instead of Harshwhinny and she could care even less. It’s not as if she’s ever experienced that sense of togetherness typical on a day like this. Whether she bluntly admits it or not… Harshwhinny hardly has ‘any’ pony to get together with.
Other ponies give thanks for their families, their friends, and bestow blessings upon their neighbors, all Harshwhinny did is wallow. Wallowing the events of the week, of the last year, and all the lost chances. Her whole life, she felt as if life pulled her in a constant downward spiral, that feeling of being unable to do anything and she hated it. Only now did she finally realize this wasn’t going away on its own no matter how much she wills it.
Recently, Harshwhinny has been seeing a therapist but only when her depression started getting worse. The moment she couldn’t climb her way up that spiral dragging her down, which the doctor stems off a lack of any type of relationship with any pony or perhaps job strain. And always she’d tell the therapist the same thing…
“Life in general weighs me down,” Harshwhinny said. “Everyday it gets harder to pull myself out that I’ve decided to just… let myself go.”
Thanksgiving is that one day of the year when Harshwhinny is at her worst. Sitting by herself in an empty apartment, a day no different compared to years before. She’d lay around, unable to sleep. She’d periodically check the fridge and cupboards, barely picking anything in particular. Eventually, as her eyelids drop heavily and her stomach starts to churn, she’d pull the nearest blanket over herself… and just let her eyes fall, hoping sleep will take her.
The problem with that… her dreams are always the same…
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Harshwhinny’s body would tense, otherwise she’s completely immovable. A flash of blood splatters followed by the gleam of the knife. A beam of light shines over her eyes, as she lies on the ground with her top undone. The very same images of how her life will end, should she stay asleep for too long… despite always fearing how it ends…
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KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
But it’s the knocks at the door that make Harshwhinny gasp, reeling up so hard that the blanket slid off. Catching her breath, she turns to the front door of her apartment. Brushing her mane neatly with her hooves, she gets up onto all fours and works her way to the door. Reaching for the door, pulling it slightly ajar, an unusual development takes place before her eyes.
Her moderate phthalo blue eyes watch her, as the light cornflower bluish gray mane with a light streak gleams off the apartment light. A rolled-up scroll tied with a blue ribbon is shown upon the flank of her pale, light grayish amber coat. Mayor Mare, the mayor of Ponyville, standing by the doorway leading to Harshwhinny’s apartment. Plastic containers cradle in her arms, as she leans against the doorway for support.
Naturally, Ms. Harshwhinny shouldn’t have been surprised to see Mayor Mare, yet her face says otherwise.
“Mayor Mare,” Harshwhinny started. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might like some leftovers,” Mare told her. “Maybe even some company.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here, even to bring leftovers,” Harshwhinny replied. “I wouldn’t want you to leave your own family over me.”
“It’s no problem for me at all. So… are you going to let me in? Don’t want to drop this stuff.”
Harshwhinny silently takes a few steps back, granting the Mayor entrance into her apartment. The latter makes her way into the kitchen to stash away the leftovers. She grimaced at the sight of Harshwhinny’s fridge, probably hoping she was eating well. But knowing the Mayor, in the back of her mind, Harshwhinny ate the basics. Probably one of the reasons she stopped by, bringing home-cooked food ready to heat and serve as a means to tempt golden-mane pony.
But Harshwhinny has her suspicions otherwise. She knew with upmost certainty Mayor Mare wanted more than simply to making sure her fellow pony has something to eat. She knew, deep down, of Mayor Mare’s awareness that Harshwhinny has been struggling for quite some time. That every aspect of the pony’s life keeps piling to the point it’s gotten less easy to manage. Just waiting for that one job that will set Harshwhinny to her breaking point and confirming the Mayor’s concerns.
The moment the Mayor makes herself comfortable in the living room, Ms. Harshwhinny hovers just in front of the couch. Mayor Mare takes her seat upon the couch, placing her arm across the back of the couch to stretch out. Harshwhinny hesitates for a second, uncertain of whether to accept the empty space besides the Mayor. But eventually, she takes a seat next to her, leaning back so her neck can nestle upon the cushions… her eyelids closing for just a moment…
“Ms. Harshwhinny?”
The Mayor’s voice dart Harshwhinny’s eyes open. The pony finds herself curled against her; a single arm sprawled over her chest.
“Ahem… sorry,” Ms. Harshwhinny cleared her throat.
The pony starts to move away from her, to offer the Mayor a bit of space. But instead, the Mayor tights her arm around Harshwhinny’s shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, but…” She stalled, pondering what to say. “You were… talking, in your sleep.”
“Sleep?” Harshwhinny repeated quietly. “What was I saying?”
“I don’t know… I couldn’t really make it out.”
Hesitant at first, Harshwhinny shifts slightly closer to the Mayor. Mare, in turn, could see the heaviness upon the pony’s eyelids as if expecting them to close again. One look from Harshwhinny and she can tell the Mayor is lying. Anything to give it away, her voice did it for her.
“I don’t recall thanking you… for stopping by,” Harshwhinny replied. “Then I fall asleep on you. Ridiculous…”
“Oh, it’s alright,” Mayor Mare assured. “If it’s any consolation, I just want you to know… you’re not alone on such a special day like today.”
Harshwhinny’s face turns red, as her eyes glance upon the Mayor. As the Mayor turns over, she finds herself caught in Harshwhinny’s gaze. Little did she know, or perhaps she ‘did’ know, the pony beside Harshwhinny did her a bigger favor than visiting with hooves full of leftovers. Something no form of therapy or medication have ever done for the often-irritated pony sitting beside the Mayor.
“Thanks…” Harshwhinny paused. “Thank you… Mare.”
As it turns out, Ms. Harshwhinny truly has something to be thankful for this year. Most ponies in Equestria spend their day amongst dozens of friends, the majority with families coming together to express thanks and gratitude for one another’s company. But this one visit, from Mayor Mare of all ponies, as brief or long as it may be is more than enough for some pony like Harshwhinny. A pony who never had a traditional sense of family, least none to keep in touch with.
But just this once, in one of the rarest moments of her lifetime, Ms. Harshwhinny turns right over toward Mayor Mare… and smiles. Nothing much in terms to looking at, but it made her feel better in more ways she has ever expressed before. And for Harshwhinny, for this moment of loneliness to be forgotten (even temporarily), that is worth something to be thankful for.
