//------------------------------//
// day sixty-five 
// Story: Her Mother's Diary 
// by Church 
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… Day sixty-five...













Ten days. 

For ten days I haven’t made a single entry. A restless mind and, shall we say, “evil”, thoughts kept me from doing so. I’ve struggled to stay upbeat. I’ve struggled to climb out of bed. I’ve struggled to perform the slightest of duties or the simplest of tasks. After all of it, I found myself asking a single question...

What am I truly made of?

Flesh is the obvious answer. I am no god. What I am is something tangible, something that lives and breathes though, on some days, I only  wish for no more air to pass through these trembling lips. 

Another answer is guts. It means that I possess bravado, that I am courageous, that I am stoic in the face of peril. This is the wrong answer. That is what I used to be. Now, I am simply uncertain. I feel unworthy to play a part in society’s ultimatum, and that is to function as a well-rounded citizen. 

After days of lounging on my bed, crying my eyes out for reasons unclear to me, I came to a rather shocking conclusion. What I am made of isn’t anything you can touch or measure. It isn’t anything that you can feel inside, or that you can very well envision. 

What I am made of, is hope. 

And so, three days ago, I shot up off of the bed I had been sulking on for a week straight. I threw on some nice clothes. I kissed Rainbow Dash on the cheek, told her I loved her, and that Mommy was about to do something about things. Then, I left. 

It was spur of the moment, but I phoned the foalsitter, and she was more than happy to come over and sit. I probably don’t pay her enough.

I flew over to the Weather Factory. I marched in through the bulky front gate, and I demanded a job. Any job. 

I have never felt so empowered before in my life. 

One day ago, I got that job. I file papers for the Weather Factory now. It isn’t by any means exceptional pay, but it’s better than sitting on my plot all day just waiting to hear some good news that I know isn’t coming. 

It’s time to fix that broken heater. It’s time to pay another visit to Dad. It’s time to stand up for my sorry self. 

Heh, it’s snowing outside. Time to buy myself a new scarf.

More importantly, it’s time to give Dashie her very first Hearthswarming. I intend for it to be memorable.