Secret Garden

Vee died that day. We decided to lay her to rest in the garden she loved so much. I visit her twice a week. Every time I go to water her plants, I’ll sit and talk to her. She never answers back, obviously, but I can feel her presence.
After a week of taking care of her plants, I finally got my cutie mark. A Venus fly-trap. It seemed fitting. I never cared much for these plants; I only cared for my sister’s happiness. But now this seems to be a growing hobby of mine. It’s been a few years since that now.
Life’s a weird thing. It comes and goes and you have no control of it. You just have to accept it and no one will sit there and sugar coat it for you. The problem is that death comes so suddenly that we don’t have time to properly say good-bye. I don’t think any amount of time is an acceptable amount to say good-bye. So I guess I’m not really too sure about life and death.
Sometimes I think that I should stop coming back out here. Some days I’ll look at the open trail through the forest and ask, “Is it hurting you more than helping you?” And… honestly I don’t know! I-I-I mean, I promised her that I would take care of her garden, but visiting her reminds me how much I miss her. It’s like that one joke I heard on a trip to Ponyville… This, uh, this stallion goes to a psychiatrist and says, “Doc, my, uh,my brother’s crazy; he thinks he’s a chicken.” The doctor, well, he just looks in disbelief. “Why don’t you just turn him in then?” the doc would reply. “I would, but I need the eggs!” cries the client. I guess that’s how I feel about visiting Venus and gardening. It’s completely irrational and absurd to put myself through the pain and tribulations, but I keep doing it because I need the eggs!