Building the treehouse was the first thing she had done without her father. He had helped her with the blueprints, they had planned to do it together. Her mother had provided the minimal help she could. Ms. Murcott was grieving too though. Harden than her children knew. Every morning all summer Ms. Murcott and her daughter went out to the tree to do work. Often times, they left with splinters, it was though, good bonding.
She remembers when her mother came to help the first time. Applejack was standing on her hand legs, trying to hammer one of the supports in. Her mother had approached behind her, mumbling softly, but audibly “Oh Bramley, how could you do this to us.” At the time, Applejack had teared up. Her mother had said her father’s name so powerfully.
Applejacks first understanding of hard work was forged in that very treehouse. She found that spirits rose when she and her mother were hard at work. Her mother didn’t do much of it, but at the very least Murcott Mandarin came to check on her daughter. Applejack didn’t know this until much later in her life, but she and her mother were going through the same boughs of suffering.
Her mother got sick shortly before her grandfather died. But the symptoms had stayed hidden. It was, only after a few short months of working on the treehouse that she appeared truly ill, The treehouse was left unfinished for half of a year. AJ hadn’t understood the sickness at first, it didn’t come with the normal symptoms, and her mother had just looked tired. Even in failing health though, Ms. Murcott remained strong. Applejack remembers a particular Thanksgiving. Hearth Warming Eve was always spent back at the farm, but when her mother was alive, Thanksgiving took place in Manehatten.
The morning before the train ride Applejack woke up late. She laid in bed for too long, and when she finally emerged from her room, she noticed Apple Bloom was doing homework in the dining room, Granny Smith was helping her. Big Mac was reading in the living room, the almanac from the year before sat propped in front of him. Her mother had at first been nowhere to be seen. Not until she yanked the bathroom door open.
Ms. Murcott Mandarin was taking care of her makeup. Applejack stood. The simple farm pony rarely saw her mother in makeup. She isn’t sure, even when she looks back on it, if she watched that day because she was interested in her mother’s meticulous use of her hooves, of it she simply had to pee.
Applejack stood and watched as her mother, who looked so very very tired, applied the thin black eyeliner so very carefully. It winged out, hiding the crows foot wrinkle besides her eye. “Can you get me some cider dear?”
“Ma it ain’t even lunch time” AJ hadn’t seen her mother drink since before her father died. She didn’t hesitate much after her mother gave her a stern look. Her hooves carried her through the living room. Big Mac was still reading.
Then of course to the dining room, where, as she grabbed the cider and a class from the cabinet she heard Apple Bloom, still such a young filly asking Granny Smith “What’r you thankful for” Her grandmother always answered the same.
“The love I get from my family” Applejack had heard the same phrase said year after year, but this was the first time she was so surprised by it. She realized that in her life, she couldn’t remember her Mother ever saying that she loved her children. There was a bitterness in her that day, a feeling she can still remember. Now though, she understood that her Mother had never needed to tell them that she loved them.
She stood, after giving her mother the cider, and watched her sip at it slowly, standing across the hall from the women. Her eyes watched now as she women applied mascara, blinking it on. Her mother looked young in that moment. Finishing she looked at her daughter.
“Do you want me to do yours too?” She asked. AJ was taken off guard by her mother. She shook her head slightly. She didn’t need to dress up fancy to impress the family. Her mother didn’t waste her time to nod or do anything in return, just stood still for a moment or two before putting her hair up in a bun.
They loved each other as mother and daughter should, but there had always been something between them. Applejack now realizes that it was the mutual depression that they had shared after the death of her father. Turning away from her mother, the orange mare sighed. She walked through the living room, watching Big Macintosh start to go upstairs to get better. She noticed that her mother had rearranged the furniture again, she hadn’t picked that up before. She notices first that grandfather’s chair is nowhere to be seen. The radio had been updated. Her sense of nostalgia felt shattered. The throw rug and couch were in unfamiliar places. It made her uncomfortable, she struggled to shake it off as she continued through the house.
She walked into the kitchen, seeing her grandmother, and younger sister sitting together. She was monotonous as she walked to the sink, there was nothing special about that moment. She took a drink, and went to her room. Standing there is when she caught her reflection. The same coat color as her mother. The same mane color. Out of all of her siblings she looked the most like her mother. A nearly identical copy. It caught her off guard at the time. As she realized how old and tired her mother looked, compared to her.
Applejack understands now, as she unpacks a mirror in her new town home. She understands more now about her mother than she ever had as a filly. She sees the crow’s feet beginning to form, and even more than that, she sees the tired circles under her eyes. They were the same. But, did that doom her to the same fate it doomed her mother too?