Lily trotted around the small house and soon spotted her sister sitting on the small wooden bench next to the pond. Columbine, a young mare with a magenta coat and a maroon mane was humming to herself as she skillfully wove threads into an image. Her cutie mark was an unfurling tapestry of vibrant colors etched in the image of a blue and gold butterfly. As Columbine shifted the wings of the butterfly changed slightly with the light creating the illusion that its wings were moving. It was specular cutie mark that left no doubt of her talent. While their mom could speedily create hardy and useful clothing, Columbine would take great periods of time to create beautiful images for wall hangings. It made Lily look at her own blank flank and wonder if her cutie mark would be so nice. She didn’t think so.
Lily slowly approached the cloth that her sister was working on. It was the image of a blue jay spreading his wings. The blues were more vibrant than they were on any jay that Lily had ever seen and when one looked at its reflection in the pond it seemed as if the bird would fly out of the fabric at any moment. Any other day Lily would have danced with delight on the edge of the pond almost expecting the bird to burst out of the water. Today she could not. Her tiny little body felt too heavy for dancing and the beautiful reflection could not inspire her.
“What’s wrong Lily?” Columbine called when she noticed her little sister sitting by the pond.
Lily pointed at the house to where the picture would still be sitting on the mantle. “Gramgram and Pawpaw,” She stated simply.
“Ah!” her sister replied. “Well come up here and sit by me,” Columbine patted the spot next to her. “We can keep each other company and maybe you’ll start to feel better.”
Lily clambered up on the bench and settled down to watch the needle skillfully weave threads together. It amazed the young filly that the newly woven fabric could look like such a mess for a while but it would suddenly become part of the picture when she pulled on the thread. Slowly, piece by piece, thread by thread the image came together like magic. If only she could be like her sister. Not only would she be happy but she could create beautiful images with thread. Her sister had the best talent in the world from Lily’s view and she would give up all her toys to be just like her.
At her sister’s feet was a box of thread spools and discarded squares of cloth. Lily picked it up and began rummaging through it.
“Careful,” her sister said quickly, “There’s needles in there.”
Lily pulled out the scraps and a shiny blue spool and announced, “I sew.”
“Perhaps when you a little older,” Columbine replied. “These needles are sharp.”
“I sew!” Lily stated again stubbornly.
“Aright,” Columbine sighed as she threaded the needle for her little sister. She had a hard enough time saying no to her and she just couldn’t with Lily still feeling the pain of losing their grandparents. It wasn’t like they didn’t but Lily was more sensitive.
‘Alright, hold it carefully, no… careful! Watch the tip! No, weave like this… but watch for you other hoof. Oh, carful. Remember that it’s sharp.” Columbine’s worrying soon faded as she saw that the little filly seemed to instinctually know how to handle the sharp point. Not once did she hurt herself as she worked at the scraps fabric. Columbine set aside her tapestry to watch her sister make her own creation. Lily’s face was scrunched up with concentration as she worked. Her tongue stuck out from the side of her mouth and her eyes never left the cloth. The little pieces of fabric were turned this way and that as she designed her creation. Bit by bit it came together and thread wove throughout the piece. Sections of cloth was threaded together and the needle moved in various patterns. Columbine watched with interest as she tried to figure out what Lily was making. At the moment, that was something that only the little filly knew. After fifteen minutes of work Lily held up her creation and announced, “Bird!”
“Oh, that’s a nice looking bird,” Columbine said as she looked at the jumbled mess of cloth and thread.
Lily eyed her cloth bird and then looked at her sister’s bird. They were nothing alike. Remembering how her sister had pulled thread together to finish a section Lily tugged on all of the loose thread ends. The fabric that barely resembled a bird scrunched up into a tight, lumpy ball. Lily’s tiny shoulders slumped and she frowned at the cloth.
Columbine ruffled her mane. “Don’t worry. It’s only your first try.”
“I can’t make bird like yours,” Lily grumbled as she pointed her sister’s work and threw her own on the ground. “I want be you.”
“You want to be like me?” Columbine asked. “It’s still only your first try. Besides you might be a hat maker like our brother or a clothing knitter like mom.”
“But I want make pretty things.” Lily stated as she looked longingly at her sister’s work.
“It looks amazing doesn’t it?” Columbine asked staring down at the fabric. Lily nodded. “Well guess what,” Columbine continued dropping her voice to a whisper as if imparting a great secret. “These tapestries may look amazing but their useless when trouble comes. When the freezing wind blows and winter sets in a cold pony would trade ten of these for one set of clothing that mom makes.”
Lily chewed on her hoof as she contemplated that thought.
“Every job is very important,” Columbine continued giving Lily a hug. “You go on and play. You should not be worrying about cutie marks and such things yet. Your too young for that. Right now you should just be enjoying the joy that comes with being a kid.”
Lily hopped down and headed back towards the front yard as she pondered what her sister had said. She thought that it made sense but it didn’t help her. She didn’t any feel better and she was still Lily. She didn’t feel like playing until she could be somepony other than clumsy, plain Lily.
Aspen had finished with most of the yard and was now working on the fringes. Lily sat down next to the porch as she watched him and pondered just what she could do. Soon the sound of laughter reached her ears. Lily crouched and peaked around the steps as she peered at the dirt path running past her house. Two fillies that Lily recognized were trotting down it and heading towards the nearby town. They were a few years older than her and from the group of fancy homes that were at the other end of the road. Anypony who lived down there was from a well to do family though all the ponies in the area went to the same school. Lily crept out from behind the porch and watched them as they trotted lightly down the dirt path. As always they were so cool and confident. With each step their hooves came up and down with perfect poise as if they had practiced it from the day they had learned to walk. Their tails swayed back and forth as they strode and the curls of their manes bobbed with their stride. Heads were held high and knees always bent at perfect right angles with step.
Walking to the end of the road after they passed, Lily sat down and watched their retreating figures. She glanced at her brother who had his back turned to her, then back at her schoolmates. Maybe she couldn’t be a specific pony but she could be one of them. She hopped up and followed after the fillies. With each step the little foal focused hard as she tried move exactly like the older fillies.