{ Bridge }
It was obligatory: every time I visited Canterlot City, me and Twilight would visit the park where I confessed to her. It didn’t matter what time of year it was; if I was in town, rain or shine, we’d always find a day to go. If anything, a blizzard or thunderstorm gave the environment a different palette, and made that visit stick out in my mind.
This time, it was bright, sunny, and uncharacteristically warm throughout for that time of year. A warm front had blown in not long after I arrived, and the snow had quickly melted as a result. This was exactly what I was hoping for.
With a guitar case in hand, we walked the stone path toward the bridge where it all began. I felt my whole body tense up as it came into view. Five years later and I still felt the residual nerves from the day I finally confessed to her.
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason I felt a pang of anxiety. I may have just spent months singing and playing guitar in front of hundreds of people, but those were faces without names. Performing for a crowd was all about putting on a good show.
Performing in front of Twilight meant far more than that. I wasn’t just trying to impress her; I was trying to impart a message to her—a heartfelt, undoubtedly cheesy, but very emotional message. One that could easily be delivered in three words, but to me, required far more than just words to truly express.
Rehearsing this song in my off time could only do so much. It may ensure I’m able to perform on a mechanical level, but it did nothing to prepare me for all the feelings that would be running through me when it was time. As I sat down on the bench and placed the hard shell guitar case on the wet stone ground, I reflected on how I felt—practiced, yet unprepared.
Regardless, this was going to happen.
“So,” I began, bending over and unlatching the lid of the guitar case, “I know I’ve been pretty vague about what I wanted to do for you out here during this visit.” I grinned at Twilight as she took a seat on the bench next to me. “Though, I’m sure it’s not hard to guess.”
Twilight nodded, smiling knowingly. “I think I have an idea, but I won’t say anything.”
I exhaled softly as my smile widened. “Well, I know I’ve already said sorry for it a million times, but consider this my True apology for missing our five year anniversary.”
She quietly nodded again. With my guitar in hand, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My mind ran through the chord shapes as I placed my fingers on the fretboard. It was a simple song – a G chord into a C chord, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Strumming the first few beats of the song, I moved my body to the rhythm.
Looking up from my guitar, I strummed the first chord a few times. After just the first chord, Twilight immediately realized the song I was playing. Not long after we got together, I brought her out to this same spot and played it for her for the first time. I hadn't played it once since then, and considering everything, this felt like the most appropriate time to do it.
I heard her breath hitch as she covered her mouth with her hands. Seeing her reaction was enough to make my heart palpitate.
I continued rocking back and forth, playing the two chords of the intro in a sequence as I cleared my throat.
“Don’t start crying,” I playfully remarked. “I haven’t even started playing it yet, and if you start, I’m gonna start.”
Even with her mouth behind her hands, I could still hear a choked giggle. I couldn’t help but smile at her. After enough stalling and emotional preparation, I began to sing.
It seemed like things were going well at first, but not even halfway into the first verse, I could see tears streaming down Twilight’s eyes. Seeing this caused a lump to form in my throat, and I choked on that before I could manage the third line of the first verse.
“Fuck,” I hissed, stopping mid song to swallow my feelings back down. “Let me start over.”
Twilight giggled, wiping the tears away before placing her hands in her lap, nodding once she was ready.
Putting my fingers back into position, I got back into rhythm and began again. Once again, Twilight immediately became emotional, and the lump was back in my throat even faster. I was determined not to let it win this time—one false start was more than enough.
As I got to the chorus, I broke eye contact with Twilight. Closing my eyes while playing was a habit I fell into early on as a musician, but most of the reason I did was because it was becoming difficult not to choke again. Whenever I saw Twilight cry, I usually felt like crying as well. And while I could hold back most of the time, performing this song made me far too emotional to try.
So many memories played out behind my eyelids. Dates, parties, sleepovers with our friends. Magic incidents, panic attacks, fights. An assortment of experiences good and bad. I carried fondness for all of them, even the negatives, because at the end of it all, we were always together. They made me yearn to create more moments with her.
As I got to the bridge, my fretting hand tripped up trying to switch to the right chord. There was an awkward pause as I got reoriented and back into rhythm before continuing. To make matters worse, I forgot a couple of the lines. Internally, I was kicking my own ass for flubbing that part up, but years of performing in front of an audience allowed me to ignore those mistakes and focus on finishing.
The last chorus was always the hardest to sing. Every other chorus had a narrow range of notes, but the last chorus had quite a bit more vocal flourishing. Still, I managed to belt out the hardest parts, my voice only cracking one time.
The chorus ended, building up to a brief reprisal of the first verse; this time sung softer and slower as the song ended. I played the last chord with a slow strum, and as the sound of the strings resonated, I finally opened my eyes.
Twilight cheeks were raised—both from the glowing smile she held, and the tears she’d been unable to stop for the duration of the song. The streaks down her face glistened in the evening light. My performance was far from perfect, but perfection was never the goal. In the end, impact was all that mattered, and from her expression alone, I made just as much of an impact as I wanted.
I gently lowered my guitar back into its case, flipping the lid closed. “So, how did–”
Those were the only words that managed to escape me. Before I even had a chance to sit back up and face her, Twilight latched onto me, her arms practically crushing my ribs.
“That was beautiful,” she said with a sniffle.
“Happy five years,” I said, holding her close to me as I kissed the crown of her head. “I love you, Twilight.”
“I love you too, Sunset.”