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// Mom and Dad 
// Story: High, Mom and Dad 
// by Mike_Tubapun 
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Just as she was beginning to wonder how long the high would last (Pinkie was known for making several varieties ranging from minutes to several moons, surely she wouldn’t have sold Fluttershy one of the latter....) Big Mac came upon something strange. The clouds had turned from puffy white tinged pink by the sunset to an almost yellow green. Kind of like the grass at the... the orchard. Was she home? Surely she hadn’t walked all the way from Fluttershy’s to the farm. That would explain the trees, but the fruit on those trees wasn’t apple-ish to her. It was far too yellow, her family was known for making fruit as red as her coat, after all. They were too tall as well, almost more. Oh. They were pears. But even with Grand Pear having returned the trees they had planted had yet to reach fruit-bearing age, so wherever she was, it couldn’t be anywhere in walking distance of Fluttershy’s cottage. 
Things only got more confusing when the barn came into view. It looked a lot like the Apple family barn, but not as she knew it. Sure the building had been rebuilt a few times, but this was beyond that. This was a design she hadn’t seen outside of pictures in Granny and Goldie’s old photo albums. In particular, the lanterns were bracketed on the side in a way that they hadn’t been since.
Mac decided to get a closer look, if nothing else, whoever owned this barn might need some advice on fire safety. No pony seemed to be at the door, but she heard a faint noise within. It sounded like somepony humming, a familiar melody even. But surely not, the only pony she knew who knew that song was...
If Mac wasn’t a weed-based astral projection she would have fainted right then and there. Buttercup and Bright Mac were bustling about the barn, gathering ingredients into a still for cider. Big Mac saw pears and apples alike being laid in the press, which squeezed into a roiling cauldron alongside the spices she knew well. Neither pony had noticed her yet, wrapped in their work as they were. Mac had always loved watching them bustle about the kitchen as a young colt, and that love had only grown in the few years she was able to join them in their cider-making.
Mac sighed in her remembrance of those days, and this was enough to alert the others to her presence there. The look in her parents eyes as they saw their eldest for the first time in over a decade was almost more than she could bear. Love, joy, grief, regret, and a desire to make up for lost time all flashed and mixed in a swirl of tears that formed pools that they desperately tried to blink away. They both rushed to embrace Big Mac, and she nearly tackled them back with her own embrace.
“Big Mac,” Buttercup started, “we’re so sorry we left you.”

“It’s okay Momma, you didn’t mean to, we all know it.”

“We’ve missed so much, I don’t know how you’re here, but you have to fill us in, please.”

Big Mac chuckled a little, “You wouldn’t believe the half of it Ma.” They broke the embrace, tears still welling up in and being wiped from all of their eyes. Bright Mac motioned to the table nearby.

“Please, take a seat, I’d love to hear it all from you,” Big Mac’s smile grew at her dad’s voice, “Son.”