Memory
The little streetlight gave off a soft glow in the night. It barely lit up the narrow, snow-covered bench beneath it, let alone the dusted-over field around it. The bench was an old, creaky thing, quietly protesting against the snow that fell onto it. The streetlight was the only thing that distinguished it from the other rusty old benches in the park.
Most ponies wouldn't pay any attention to such a place, especially late at night on Hearth's Warming Eve. Most of them were at home, exchanging gifts with their friends and family. But this was not the case for Lyra Heartstrings.
Lyra was a little green unicorn, a bit shorter than most ponies. Like most ponies that night, she was carrying a small package wrapped up in paper and a bow. Unlike most ponies, however, she was still wandering through the town, walking up to that little park bench and streetlight. She had to. She needed to remind herself of the good times before she went to see him.
She pushed clumps of snow off of the wooden boards until the bench was spotless again. Satisfied, she pulled herself up and onto the squeaky bench, setting the package down beside her. As she sat there, with little flecks of snow starting to cover the bench again, she smiled. And she remembered a time long ago when her father would often take her out to that very bench and the two of them would watch birds for hours upon hours. Or try to, anyway. Sooner or later their conversations would often go down some silly path, and Lyra would scare away all the birds with her laughter.
Sometimes, he would try to explain math to her while they sat on that little bench. The items being added or subtracted were either cookies or ice cream cones. Though, after one particularly messy incident with ice cream, they only used cookies. It was quite some time before Lyra actually understood that two cookies plus two cookies equaled four cookies, but her father was definitely a better teacher than the one she had at school. He had helped her with that irritating subject all the way up to her going to Canterlot University.
And sometimes, when it was quiet in the park, they would just sit there, little Lyra gazing up at the sky while her father thought about something.
And then Lyra would poke her ticklish father with her horn, and the two of them would start laughing again.
Lyra sighed. Those were just some of the happy memories that involved the creaky old bench and dim streetlight. But they weren't what stood out the most in her mind. One night, not too long after the mathematical ice cream mayhem, as he called it, her father hadn't been as cheerful as he normally was. He had stared off into space, even after Lyra had poked him.
And little Lyra thought she knew why.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Are you going to leave mommy?"
Her father looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "What in the world makes you say that, Lyra?"
"You and mommy've been yelling a lot, an' Berry's mommy and daddy were like that an' then her daddy left, and I-" Her father stopped her.
"No, no Lyra, I'm not leaving. It's just that...that... Well, mommy's very sick, and her medicine makes her very grumpy."
"I thought it just made her mane an' tail fall off."
Her father stared off into the distance again, his voice cracking as he said, "Well, yeah, it... it does that too."
Lyra's smile vanished, and the snow piled onto the old bench. The little package now had a small, powdery layer of snow covering it. She lifted it with her magic, gave it a small shake, and set it back down. She glanced up at the dim streetlight.
Just a few more minutes, she thought. Just a few more minutes, and then I'll go see him. Lyra looked at the little package next to her. She hoped that he would like it.
It was a long, long time before her father was happy again. He still took her to that little bench, but he didn't laugh as much, and Lyra didn't really want to say anything. For a long time, they would just sit there, slowly eating ice cream.
And then, one day, Lyra got her cutie mark. Her father took her out to the bench to go bird watching, and they started talking about any silly little thing that popped into their heads. That was probably her favorite memory: The two of them, sitting on the little bench, eating some ice cream and joking about...music, that was what they had talked about. Lyra's special talent did involve playing a lyre, and her father had talked about buying her a new one so that she didn't have to play that crumbly old one she'd found in the attic. She would hear nothing of it once she found out her father used to play the old thing when he was a foal.
Lyra, being a bit of a pack rat, still had that faded, ancient instrument. She smiled at the thought and chuckled when she imagined her father trying to play it all those years ago.
You're stalling, she told herself. Holly'll have put him in bed by the time you get there if you don't get going. She set herself down off of the little bench and onto the snow covered path. Lifting the package into the air with her magic, she gave the dimly lit bench one final look before she walked away.
***
The little house was a cozy place, smaller than Lyra remembered but still friendly looking. Snow covered the slanted roof and the windowsills. Lyra tried to look inside through one of the windows, but the drapes had been pulled shut. Checking the package one final time, she walked up to the door, lifted a hoof, and knocked.
A few minutes passed before the aged door opened. A white pegasus in a blue uniform stood in the doorway with a small smile on her face. "Lyra! I was starting to think you wouldn't show up. Come on in," she said.
Lyra walked in and took her scarf off. She placed it on a little stand in the hall, then turned to face the pegasus.
"I just needed to think for a bit, Holly. Is he...?"
"He's having a good day so far. He's in the living room." Holly pointed a hoof to a doorway that had light coming out of it. She saw the package floating in the air behind Lyra. "Is that for him?"
Lyra nodded. Holly led her down the hall and into the room. Lyra stopped for a moment when she saw the elderly pony sitting on the floor.
He was a dark green earth pony, his mane grayed with age. When he saw Lyra enter the room, he smiled and opened his mouth to speak. The smile was soon replaced with a frown, and he squinted, deep in concentration. Lyra smiled and sat down next to him.
"It's Lyra, dad."
"...I knew that."
Lyra smiled. "Of course you did, dad. 'Course you did. How're you doing?"
"I'm alright, I think. What's that?"
Lyra slid the package over to her father. "A present for Hearth's Warming. Go ahead, open it."
The old stallion unwrapped the package in a careful, precise way. Lyra had to stop him from focusing on shredding one piece over and over. Eventually, a plain white box was revealed. He lifted the top off of the box and stared at the object nestled inside it, his expression blank. He pulled it out and held it in his hooves. He turned to Lyra. "I don't..."
Lyra tried to help him. "Remember when I got my cutie mark, Dad?"
The old stallion's face scrunched up in an effort to remember. He looked at the thing again.
"You said you'd get me a new one, but I said no, remember?" Lyra's voice cracked. She hoped that she might stir some faint memory in the old stallion's decaying brain.
Her father still had a look of concentration on his face, of trying to remember a day in the park, of trying to remember something important to him. He knew there was something that connected the item he was holding with his daughter, but he couldn't put his hoof on it.
Eventually, he placed it on the floor. He sighed and said, "I'm sorry, but all I see is an old lyre."
Lyra leaned over and hugged him. She sniffled and closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her face. After a moment of confusion, her father returned the embrace.