As my son looked out upon the horizon, I began to ask myself, “Is this the story that my son truly wishes to hear? Is this what he has been searching for throughout his delicate life?”
The child’s smile, as perfect as it was, still brought a certain sadness to me. It was the smile of his mother. Perfection was the smile; simple, yet calming was the expression. It brought nothing but a tear to my eye when seen. How could anyone forget the elegance in the young mare of which I devoted my life to? It was only natural that I should feel regret.
“What’s wrong, my Father?” calmed the boy, rubbing his hand against my hard-labored arm, “Would you like an apple?”
The playful child darted into the orchard before I could reassure him. I knew he would be fine; he had fought life in so many ways, there was no reason I should worry. His kick could be heard for miles as his strong hind hooves bucked against the submissive trees, bestowing their fruit before the innocent seeker. It was an unusual defection, claimed the doctors who helped deliver his being. I wouldn’t hear anything of it; I knew they were poisoned like the rest of Equestria’s despiteful one-minded kind. I recalled her wishes; she called for an example, and here he was, perfect in the eyes of those who praised him.
The cautious boy fell to his knees with a drooping tail of emotions; he presented the kind fruit to me and quickly lowered his head. I admired his obedience, but I remained puzzled,
“Son,” Said I, picking up shining red apple, “Why do you worry for me?
He blankly stared in state of awe as fear struck him, “Does it not please you? If not, it would be no trouble at all to bring you another.”
I shook my head, looking down at my wife’s labor, “No, my child, you mustn’t let your speculation get in the way of your morality. You must continue to remain as you are.”
I lifted the apple high into the air, the setting sun catching it in its golden rays, “This apple is pure and perfect as you are; I wish not that it change.”
He nodded low, picking up the small worn diary and looked up at me with his mother’s eyes, “Will you continue to read?” He said. With a kind smile, I nodded; he handed me the book and watched with interest as I turned each delicate page to a golden ribbon created from the very essence of his mother’s love.
”Yes, Daniel, I will continue.”