In the final stages of a contentious move, Rarity struggles to strike a balance of emotions. Sweetie Belle's adverse reaction to the prospect of upending her entire life and moving to the great big city of Canterlot leaves Rarity unable to come to terms with her own qualms over the move. The two mares are hanging on by a thread.
Then an artifact from Rarity's not-so-distant past turns up in her closet and threatens to ruin everything.
A meditation on moving. Written with the help of the gorgeous, righteous, sexy animal GaPJaxie. Cover art by the ever-excellent DrTuo. Featured 12/12/21, thank you all for reading!
Chapters (1)
Oof, this hits right in the feels. Really puts into perspective my own move I'll be doing in a few years. There's just something about leaving behind decades of memories that hits me, and I got my own instrument in the closet that I'll make a decision about come move time.
Imagining hooves playing a chord is funny in its absurdity.
At least it's not "Ja Ja Ding Dong."
So, my best friend's parents sold their house recently. It's almost completely empty, as of today, and will be actually so by Wednesday. Thirty some years they lived there. Near 20 of which I knew them, and kept that place in my heart as a second home, especially after my own childhood home came and went. I went there last night, to see them. To see the house. The kitchen island where we had dozens—hundreds of breakfasts, lunches and dinners. The giant window over the sink looking out to the narrow end of the yard, beautified by the tiered garden where the walls met; the old round spider web between the window and mesh where some 8 legged friend kept itself warm for the Winter some decade ago. We named her Madeline, and by all evidence she survived and wandered off when it warmed up.
The couch that hosted countless movies and naps, with a handful of hellish fevers. The entertainment center older than either of us, that held onto its old CRT TV because the dad never wanted to deal with rerunning the wires, until the family banded together to force the issue one glorious Christmas.
Ah, Christmas! Oh the perfect corner for the tree! Tall enough ceiling to put in any tree they liked, and enough open wall to spin it all the way around to decorate nearly every inch of every branch.
The garage tennis ball. The hidden key. Those damned pigeons at the pool.
The Big Pool Party. The Night of Too Much Wine. Countless hours perched on a bath ledge chatting while my friend got ready to go out, or wound down from being out. The tree out front, shaped up like a giant mushroom, where we'd bend and wave underneath it from opposite sides when I went home.
...
Those memories will always be ours. The house might remember, too. I don't know if the buyers are a married couple, young, old, if they have kids, or what. But I can't think of a better place to look after them for the next few decades. And, hopefully, they won't mind me crying across the street once in a while.
Edit: got so wrapped up in memory I forgot to say "hey nice story! Really captures the rush of emotions leaving somewhere you love."