Queen of Trauma

"Alright, Miss Star," Applejack said, adjusting her hat with a determined look, "time to see if you’re cut out for farm work."

I nodded, a little nervous but eager to prove myself. "What do you need me to do?" I asked, brushing off my nerves.

"First things first," Applejack said, leading me toward the orchard. "We’ll start with apple buckin’. It’s how we get apples down from the trees round here."

As we walked, the crisp scent of ripe apples filled the air, and the golden glow of the setting sun painted everything in warm hues. I glanced over at Apple Bloom, who still clung to Pear Butter as they walked toward the farmhouse. Her smile was brighter than the sunlight.

When we reached a row of sturdy apple trees, Applejack gestured to a basket beneath one of them. "Watch and learn," she said, positioning herself next to the tree. With a swift, practiced kick, she struck the trunk, sending a cascade of apples tumbling neatly into the basket below.

"Wow," I said, impressed. "That was… precise."

Applejack smirked, brushing off her hoof. "Years of practice. Now, let’s see what you’ve got."

I stepped up to another tree, trying to mimic her stance. I aimed a solid kick at the trunk, but the impact sent a dull ache through my hoof and barely shook a leaf. The apples didn’t budge.

Applejack chuckled, a warm, encouraging sound. "Not bad for a first try. Just need a bit more oomph. Use your core, not just your legs."

I tried again, gritting my teeth and focusing my energy. This time, a few apples fell into the basket. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress.

"That’s more like it," Applejack said with an approving nod. "You’ll get the hang of it soon enough."

As we worked, the sound of rustling leaves and apples landing in baskets filled the air. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace, despite the physical effort.

have you not seen your mom for awhile I say.

Applejack paused mid-kick, her hoof resting against the trunk of a tree. She glanced at me, her emerald eyes softening as a wistful smile spread across her face. "Yeah," she said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of melancholy. "It’s been a long time... too long."

She turned away for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the farmhouse where Pear Butter’s laughter floated faintly on the breeze. "Sometimes, I’d wonder if I was startin’ to forget her voice... the way she smiled. It scared me, y’know? Like she was slippin’ away from me, little by little."

I hesitated, unsure if I should press further, but something about the way she spoke invited honesty. "What about now?" I asked gently.

Applejack chuckled softly, brushing her hoof along the bark of the tree as if grounding herself in the moment. "Now? It’s like she never left. Like a part of me that’s been missin’ all these years just clicked back into place." She turned back to me, her smile brighter but her eyes misty. "I keep thinkin’ I’m gonna wake up and this’ll all be a dream. But until then, I’m gonna make the most of every second."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "It’s a miracle," I said, more to myself than her.

"That it is," Applejack replied, her voice steady but full of emotion. She gave me a look that felt as grounding as the sturdy trees around us. "Family’s somethin’ you hold on to, no matter what. Even when they’re gone, they’re still with you in some way."

We worked quietly for a while after that, the rhythmic thuds of hooves meeting bark filling the silence. The orchard seemed to hum with life, as if sharing in Applejack’s joy and reverence.

As we moved to the next row of trees, I couldn’t help but ask, "Do you think everything happens for a reason? That maybe… she came back because she was meant to?"

Applejack considered my words for a moment, adjusting her hat as she leaned against the tree. "Maybe," she said thoughtfully. "Or maybe some things just happen ‘cause they’re meant to remind us what really matters. Either way, I ain’t gonna question it too much. Life’s too short not to be grateful for the good things when they come ‘round."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with wisdom but tinged with hope. I didn’t press further, letting the moment settle as we continued working. The sun was dipping lower now, casting long, golden shadows across the orchard.

"Alright," Applejack said finally, wiping her brow and giving me a grin. "That’s enough for today. You earned yourself some supper, Miss Star."

As we walked back toward the farmhouse, the warm light spilling from its windows, I glanced at her and asked softly, "Do you think she knows how much you’ve missed her?"

Applejack smiled, her expression serene. "Oh, she knows," she said. "You can see it in her eyes. And I reckon she missed us just as much."

The farmhouse glowed with warmth as we approached, its windows spilling soft light into the gathering twilight. The hum of voices and the occasional burst of laughter drifted through the air, a testament to the joy inside.

As we stepped onto the porch, Applejack paused, turning to me with a grin. "You did good today, Miss Star. Ain’t easy keepin’ up with farm work, but you held your own."

I smiled, the praise lifting my spirits. "Thanks. It feels good to be useful."