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// day thirty-three 
// Story: Her Mother's Diary 
// by Church 
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… Day thirty-three...














Rainbow Dash’s coughing cleared up after only a short while. For a while there, I was freaking out. I took her to a doctor the instant her cough persisted into the next day. I thought that foals were the most fragile of things, and that anything from the simplest of coughs to the slightest of unnatural twitches would break them. After I rushed through the doors carrying Rainbow, we had to wait a half hour for them to get around to her. As if I wasn’t ticked enough about that, the doctor told me that she had just contracted a simple virus. She just needed frequent rest and to be fed a regular diet. In other words, I needed to do exactly what I have been doing for the past month. He gave me a vial of simple medication, told me to spoon feed it to her, and to just wait and see what happens in the coming days. 

He also told me it was common for mothers to rush in frantically, over-concerned by their foal’s first cold.

The trip cost me thirty-seven bits.

Upon returning home with a saddlebag devoid of change, I set Rainbow down in her crib, one of her subtle coughs escaping through her lips before she fully laid down. The day was still young at that point, and I was about to spend the remainder of it with her. It was a rather uneventful day. Well... uneventful to anypony else that may have been there, maybe. I was concerned with every movement Rainbow made, making the time crawl by so slowly I never thought that the day would end. Every time I so much as heard her squeak I was there, bending over her crib, stroking her mane. I was thinking about Dad. I was thinking about Rainbow.

I decided to do a bit of tidying up around the house today. Honestly, the house didn’t really need the attention, but it was something to do to take my mind off of other matters. Of course I also did it to please Mother, as I always listened to whatever she had to say with utmost interest (sarcasm should be detected). The kitchen appliances are now spotless, the floor immaculate, the tables and chairs clean as a whistle; I really got into it today. No chance now that Rainbow could get sick from any germs that used to linger on the floor or countertops.

I’m very tired, but I can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to sleep. My eyelids are slowly drooping, but they fail to fully close, fail to let me rest. I realize that it isn’t Rainbow’s cough that’s been keeping me awake. It never truly was. Yes, I was very concerned for my foal, what mother in their right mind wouldn’t be? But in the back of my mind, the entire time, every cough reminded me of Dad.

I can barely even continue to write. My mouth feels like it’s filled with an innumerable amount of pins, all pressing into my cheeks and tongue. It feels as if it’s bleeding. It’s beginning to grow numb. 

I’m struggling to even hold onto the quill anymore. I’m feel sick. I don’t want to admit it, but I really wish Mom were here now.

Enough. I’m done for the night. I need to... I need to clean the house.