In the Old Shed
It was the worst storm they'd had in a long while, and the dreary, grey atmosphere that settled over the farm didn't quite match the sticky heat one found even under cover.
Luckily, the skies had been clear enough earlier to finish what really needed to be finished, and once the bottom fell out Applejack and Big Mac had managed to decide it was alright to take off the rest of the day. So long as they worked extra hard tomorrow, of course.
"Ain't like we can get much done, no how. Can't hardly see twenty hooves ahead of me in this rain." Applejack kept her head tucked down, the raindrops pelting her Stetson and rolling right off, for the most part.
Big Mac murmured his typical agreement and walked up the steps to their farmhouse, taking a moment to shake off once under the cover of the porch, as did Applejack.
She stamped her hooves on the welcome mat, scraping off as much mud as was possible before entering the house. "Apple Bloom's s'posed to come on back soon but I doubt Rarity's gonna be willin' to walk her home in this weather."
"Nope," Big Mac agreed, and he sat at one of their windows, staring out to the yard.
Applejack soon joined him. "Lemme guess. You're thinkin' about that old shed."
Big Mac's face shifted into what only his family could have told was a smile. "How'd ya know?"
"'Cause it was a day like this when it fell. That thunderstrike sounded terrible but somehow the sound of all that tin comin' down was worse."
Big Mac nodded. "I remember."
Silence reigned for a moment. The Apple siblings sat side by side, listening to the sound of rain hitting the roof.
"It's almost Pa's 40th birthday." Big Mac muttered.
"It is, ain't it."
Applejack had come to terms with her loss long ago. It would never completely stop hurting, but that didn't mean life stopped moving on. But when it was time for their birthdays to come around, she figured it couldn't hurt to get a little mushy about it, let herself reminisce and think about days gone by.
"I still miss him, Mac. Just about every day."
"I do too."
"I keep rememberin' all these things that didn't used to matter to me none when I was little. Like how he helped me with all my homework even when he was struggling to understand, too. And when Apple Bloom was born, he never stopped showin' you and me how much he still cared about us, even if the baby and the farm had to take up most of him and Ma's time..." Applejack wasn't crying. In fact, she was smiling. "And, speakin' of that old shed, I remember when he used to push me on that swing in there. He'd go in to grab somethin' with me trailing behind him and I'd hop on the swing and he'd give me a couple pushes before gettin' back to work..."
"Swing?" Big Mac looked over at his sister. "What are you talkin' about?"
"You know! The swing in the old tin shed. It was applewood and rope."
"...AJ," Big Mac looked like he was debating on continuing, but pushed forward. "There weren't no swing in that old shed. Weren't one on the property at all."
"Oh, hush, Big Mac, I remember it. Back before the whole thing came crashing down."
"Weren't ya five when that happened? Are ya sure you're rememberin' right?" He furrowed his brows. "Goldie Delicious had a swing and we visited her a couple times back then."
She hesitated, but insisted, "Mac, I remember it."
Big Mac looked at her but just said, "Well, maybe I'm wrong."
They sat there for a couple more minutes before Applejack excused herself. She headed up to her room, thinking, and sat.
A lot of things about her dad were just gone.
She took off her hat and set it in front of her, on her bed. His Stetson had stopped being his Stetson long ago. Now it was hers. Years of sun and her sweat had erased any trace of him.
She really couldn't remember his voice even a bit, even though he had sat by her bed reading her bedtime stories so many nights. But what bedtime stories? She'd forgot those too.
She couldn't remember any of his cooking. She knew when Granny Smith had first attempted his apple pancake recipe it didn't taste right but she didn't remember exactly why, or what it was about it.
And now evidently Big Mac thought she was misremembering the shed. She loved that swing. How could he say that there was never one?
The rain still poured outside. She stood.
She trotted down the stairs and to the front door, and Big Mac called out to her.
"AJ," He began, "It's alright to forget some things, or get mixed up. You were 11 when he..."
"Exactly, Mac, I was 11!" She stamped a hoof on the ground. "I weren't a little foal like Apple Bloom! Don't you think I ought to remember it as good as you?"
She headed out the door. She had to prove that she didn't remember the past as good as him - she remembered it better.
The old tin shed still sat in a heap a short walk from the farmhouse. It hadn't really been touched since it had fallen, tucked away right in the middle of some trees. She knew if she just dug through the scrap she'd find what she was looking for, so she did.
She sifted through it. She worked like a mare possessed, metal clanking together and the raindrops pelting it louder still. She was soaked to the bone. She dug and dug. Her hope grew thin as she saw nothing but rust and grey. She tossed pieces aside until she saw dirt.
There was nothing but tin. No rope. No applewood.
Applejack stepped away, sitting.
Thunder boomed above.
She cried.