When the winding key had been lost, she couldn't remember, but there was an awful lot she couldn't remember these days, so it didn't bother her. Not remembering the music did bother her, though. The haze of time had rounded off the edges of her memory, and recalling more than snatches of the melody was impossible. It didn't help that she hadn't listened to it since marrying Rusty Coat.

That memory refocused her thoughts and she returned to the crank. "Musta been between then and when he died," she murmured, nosing at the tiny porcelain ballerina.

The pony figure was soft pink with a feather in her mane. One forehoof, clad in mauve spats, stretched forward, with the opposing hind placed slightly back for balance. The little mare was meant to rotate on the single hoof which came into contact with the surface of the mechanism, but had remained still for years. Only the jewel-encrusted top, which gave the box an egg shape when closed, had protected the figurine from dust.

She gave a short but violent sneeze. If only the rest of the music box had such a covering.

From the doorway came the sound of a throat clearing.

"What 'n the sam hay did I tell ya 'bout invadin' my privacy?" she screeched, and shut the lid. Turning as quickly as her creaky body would allow, she faced the culprit and stared her down. Her older granddaughter flushed, eyes focusing on the floor.

"Uh, sorry, Granny. 'S just that ya have a visitor."

Well, that was unusual. Granny's mood lightened. "Who is it?"

Applejack shook her head slightly. "Nopony I know. Didn't mention a name, only that she wanted to talk to ya."

Granny Smith let out a breath, neither sigh nor snort, and glanced back at her room. In the noonday sun, all was traced shadows and hazy edges, warm and comforting.

"All right, all right. You tell 'er I'm comin'."

"Will do, Granny!" Applejack scurried off down the hall as Granny began the wearying process of moving herself down the stairs to the first floor.

---

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

A breeze picked up, ruffling their manes. Smiles passed between their lips.

"And you ain't changed one bit. Yer lovely as ever, like mountains at sunrise." Granny enjoyed the blush that crept over her visitor's white cheeks.

Applejack had set them on the back porch, with a pitcher of sweet cider and an extra wicker rocking chair for their guest. They hadn't started talking until they were both sure she was out of earshot, and then had settled into a long moment of saying nothing that didn't need to be said.

"Sorry I ain't the way ya most likely remember me," Granny said at length.

She moved her head forward, chin up, and spoke softly. "You've nothing to apologize for. That's life for a pony."

"Anypony 'sides you, that is." Granny sniffed haughtily and took a long sip of her cider. It was cool and familiar, a taste that let her know she was where she belonged.

"Will you write to me, at least?"

"I can't. I got obligations. I'm sorry, but this is the way it's gotta be. Best you just forget about me."

Tears. She actually had emotions. It was a shame they hadn't come out sooner.

"Why ain't you visited sooner?"

She averted her eyes. "Engagements. Obligations. Time slips away. That's life for a pony like me." Her wings rustled and her head dipped down, a long pink lock slipping free and dangling over her face. "Ever since my sister came back, I'd hoped I'd have more time to see you, but... things happened."

"Y'ain't gotta 'pologize, but I 'ppreciate it all the same." Granny gazed into the distance, trying and failing to focus on the trees in the far back of the orchard. "Truth be told, I'd hoped ya'd stay away. Never wanted yer last memory of me t'be seein' me like this."

She got a gentle smile in return. "Oh come now, you talk as though you're at the end of your season."

"Mayhap I am." Granny twitched her nose, sending a gadfly on its way. "Ain't fer me t'say."

A hoof lay softly upon hers.

"You're so lovely. How am I so lucky to have a pony like you to spend time with like this? I just don't want to leave your side."

Laughter. "You flatterer! Ya know full well we ain't gonna be together forever."

"Oh, but don't speak so sadly! You've got years left in you! Let's enjoy them, you and I!"

"You still have a lot of life left in you."

Granny smiled, patting the hoof. "Thank ya fer sayin' so, dear." She took a deep breath. "It's nice, seein' ya again. Feels right, almost."

They stayed like that for a while, the birds chirping in the distance, until the white pegasus leaned in towards her cheek.

"Don't." Granny pulled away. "I'm too old t' be doin' anythin' like that now."

The visitor frowned. "You're only as old as you feel."

"That so? I must be at least two hundred by now, then!" She gave a raspy laugh. Though her companion smiled, she did not join in.

The laugh caught in her throat and she spent a few long moments hacking, while the pegasus watched, not interfering though her brows were knitted in consternation. Granny caught her breath at long last and wiped a line of spittle off her lips, soothing herself with more cider.

"What was it you ever saw in me, anyway? As I remembers it, it was my daddy who caught yer eye first."

The other mare laughed. "True, though perhaps that was more the other way around. Your mother never did forgive me."

Granny chuckled. "You know how us Smith mares can be."

"I most certainly do..." She rubbed at an imaginary bruise on her cheek, and they both shared in a giggle. "But you were different. Lovely, yes, but I always admired your tenacity, your cool head. You were always a rock to lean on when I needed it, and in my life, those have been hard to find."

"You're gonna say I wouldn't understand again, right?"

"It's not that I don't think you'd understand, it's just... I've tried sharing my affairs with ponies before. The scope of what I go through is so outside that which an average pony is familiar with..."

"Hush, lovey. No more words. Your saddle's in a twist, it don't matter why. You just sit a spell with me and everything'll be fine, you'll see."

Her voice grew quiet. "I've missed you, and I'm sorry I never came to visit sooner."

Granny peered back out at the birds. "You had your affairs and I had mine."

"Yes, well..." She coughed. "I am glad to see those same qualities in your granddaughter. It's something else that runs in the Smith line. You should be proud."

"I am proud o' AJ." Granny closed her eyes, smiling to herself. "But don't tell me she's the next to catch yer attentions now."

"No, no!" The pegasus laughed, waving her hooves. "From what I've heard, she has eyes for one of her friends."

Granny snorted. "She'll end up like me, y'know. We're tied to tradition. Gonna do her duty one day, that'n, and I pity the mare whose heart she breaks."

"As do I." A great heaving sigh followed. "Applejack has wonderful taste in mares..."

"I see."

Granny nodded, and rocked purposefully. The hard konk of trees being bucked came from elsewhere on the farm, punctuating the murmur of unintelligible conversation. Cider was sipped, and mumbles about the weather exchanged.

"I want you to have this."

"Really? It's so perty! I can't possibly accept, it must be worth a fortune!"

"Please, I insist. It's one of a kind, actually. I had it commissioned, just so I could give it to you. There's not another like it, nor will there ever be."

"Oh my goodness, you shouldn't have..."

"Listen to the music! When I can't be with you, let this play and think of me. I'll be with you in spirit."

"Did I ever mention that I still have it?" Granny said at last.

A modest smile blossomed. "You do? I never would have guessed, after all these years..."

Granny beamed. "It's still perty as the day y'gave me it. Ain't heard the music fer years though, on account the windin' key's lost."

"That's such a shame."

Granny's eyes narrowed. "Hold on now, I'm seein' that same old mischievious smirk on yer face. Yer up to somethin', you are!"

The pegasus let out a gasp of mock offense. "Me? Up to something? Missy Smith, I'm shocked that you would ever make such an accusation!"

Granny let out a guffaw, which turned into another coughing fit, which turned into another attempt at catching her breath. It took a few more breaths and a long swallow of cider before she could continue speaking.

"Ain't heard nopony call me anythin' but Granny in years, neither."

Her friend raised an eyebrow, angling her head coyly. "Forgetting your own name, now?"

"Nah, just..." Granny let out a breath.

"Missy Smith? I'm very pleased to meet your acquaintance."

"The pleasure's all mine, I assure you."

"Though I seem to recall have run afoul of your mother some years back. I'm not certain she would approve of your being here."

She laughed. "I'm sorry you had to remember that. But it don't matter what she thinks, I'm here all on my lonesome, lookin' to make what I can outta life!"

"I ain't had a use fer it, nor the old me neither."

The pink-maned head tilted down. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Granny waved a hoof. "Times change. Ponies change. 'Cept you, you stay the same. Sometimes I wonder if'n ya understand what that means at all."

The pink mane bobbed. "I do. Believe me, I understand change all too well."

There was another long moment, to take in the afternoon air's scent and listen to the sounds of foals playing in the orchard.

"Sunset's comin' soon, ain't it?"

"Mm."

"They'll be missin' ya back home afore long."

"Let them."

Hooves descended to the wooden porch floor. Granny turned her head to look over the toned white flanks sporting a sun-and-clouds cutie mark. That was new.

"I wouldn't be averse to rekindling our past together, you know."

Granny snorted. "With me in this wrinkled old body? That's a hoot."

"You know I liked you for more than your body."

"That's mighty kind of ya to say." Granny took a sip of her cider. "What's done 'n gone is done 'n gone, though. I'd just be breakin' yer heart again soon, at any rate."

"I told you, there is more life left in you than you think." Eyes of thistle, wide and blazing with expectation, turned toward her. "I could always give you more..."

"No!" Granny nearly fell forward out of her chair. "Don't you dare even mention it!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Hooves backed away, and the head hung in shame. "I shouldn't have even thought it."

Granny snorted and reclined. "Mama was right 'bout you bein' a temptress."

When she looked up, the pegasus was smiling, though her cheeks were wet.

"You know, nopony has ever taken me up on that offer."

Granny snorted. "It just goes t' show how much y'don't understand us regular ponies."

"It's always about the future with you! Why can't ya live in the present like us regular ponies?"

"I do live in the present! I live in everypony's present, all at once! Why can't you take your family pride and think about something greater than yourself?"

"Family's all that matters to me! It's all I got!"

"Don't I matter?"

"Yes, and that's why I gotta call it off!"

"That's why I weren't too shook up when I called it off."

The mare winced. "Pride runs in the Smith family, too, you know."

"Darn tootin'."

The tension sat in the air until it was borne away on the wind with the last of the apple blossoms.

"If..." Her companion's eyes searched left and right. "If I haven't offended you too much... Before I go, might I see it again? It's been so long."

Granny was quiet for a moment, trying to see if she could unnerve the other mare, but gave up shortly after she began. "Don't see why not. Just you mind the stairs, they're jibbly things these days."

---

Standing in close quarters with the mare recalled the way she used to smell, of sunlight, daisies and the cold isolation that accompanied with one of lofty position. Now, the coldness overwhelmed, with just a hint of a light spring day outdoors.

"The one thing I've always appreciated about farmers," she said, gazing around the interior of the room, "is that you know how to decorate. You can fill a room with memories and still leave enough space to walk around and enjoy them in."

"Thank ya kindly." Granny smiled, then opened the lid of the music box. Her friend stared at it, nose close enough to touch it, should she wish to. She remained that way, perfectly still, for a solid minute. Then, with a soft sigh, she rose, and nosed Granny's mane before she could protest.

"It's getting close to sundown," she said quietly. "I should be going. Many thanks for your hospitality."

"Yer always welcome in my home," Granny said, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath.

"Yaknow, my only regret is that I did have t'leave ya like that in the end. Them words I said... It weren't proper none. Weren't fair to ya."

The visitor paused. "Life has been less than fair to me before."

"I know that." Granny thrust a hoof at her accusatorily. "But that don't mean I abide havin' t'be the one makin' it harder for ya. You nor I can't go back to fix the past, so fer what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Her companion gave a demure smile. "For what it's worth, I accept. And thank you."

They embraced, though Granny's shoulders complained, and her friend nodded.

"It was good seeing you again, Granny."

"Likewise."

"I'll show myself out."

Granny smiled. "You take care now, hear?"

With a return smile, she was gone.

Granny lowered her hindquarters down onto her bedspread, and groaned along with the mattress. It was not an exclamation of relief so much as it was removing heavy clothing after a long journey, simply the signal that excess weight had been shed. She wiped her brow.

Something glinted off her dresser as the sun began to set outside her window. She squinted, but could make out nothing. With a humph, she lifted herself from the bed and shuffled over to it.

"Well I'll be a donkey's mother..."

Sitting next to the music box was a small winding key. She lifted it gingerly with her mouth, holding it beside the box and sizing up the fit. A quick thrust into the housing proved it to be an exact match. She cranked it twice, then opened the lid. Soft strains of music, familiar enough that she heard them in her marrow, tinkled out into the room.

Granny scrubbed at her cheeks.

"Once again, I weren't fair to ya none. I'm sorry."

"So who was it, Granny?"

Granny jumped, hollered, and slammed the lid shut, the key falling out onto the dresser with a soft plink. She fixed a gaze fit to bore through rock on the three faces peeking around the doorframe.

"What'n the sam hay I done told y'all 'bout stayin' outta my room?"

"We're not in yer room, Granny, honest!" proclaimed the youngest.

Granny scowled. "Y'all weren't listenin' in on my conversatin' now, were ya?"

"We weren't listening, Granny," said Applejack, "just gossipin'."

"Ain't never seen 'er before, 'sall."

"Big Mac, not you too!" Granny snorted. "Sakes alive, if I ain't raised three gossipy old mares in my house! My business is my own! Now all y'all, git out afore I get my broom!"

The three faces, their laughter barely suppressed, slunk away from the doorframe to their various pursuits. Apple Bloom lingered a moment longer, despite her granny's withering glare.

"Really, though, Granny Smith... Who was she?"

Laughter and long legs flashing in the sunlight.

The soft caress of wings that smelled of daisies and hay.

A warm embrace in a field, under a tree, in a bedroom or an empty stall.

The sun sank below the horizon.

"Apple Bloom... Ya wouldn't believe me if'n I told you."