Mom took me to the village optometrist today, with the surprise that she had already come in yesterday. The doctor already had a new pair of my unique prescription lenses, my left lens being just so noticeably thicker. She called it an early birthday present, which seems fair. We don't normally go very far for birthdays, getting each other one gift each and only if we could afford it ourselves. Mom or dad might buy it for one of us as a present for somepony if we convince them it's something that that pony needs. I once convinced mom to let me get a package of colored pencils for Dale. That's how we found out he was color blind. Well, he always knew but managed to hide it until that point.

The glasses weren't at too great a cost, but with an already limited birthday budget I doubt I'll get much more from my family. It's still two weeks from tomorrow, and like I said I'm moving out before then so I predict getting lots of help from my family and them telling me "Happy Birthday," like that's their present.

That's fine, though. I don't need anything else. I don't even think I'll need a lot of help. I don't have a lot of furniture, and the bed Granny's getting me shouldn't be heavier than I can handle.

Well, I just took a look at my mattress. She told me the one she has for me is bigger. Still, not too heavy, but moving it might be a challenge; it has an awkward shape, and its flexibility could prove difficult.

I'm still not fully in myself right now, if you can tell: I'm wide awake. Spent a lot of time tonight thinking about my time with Churner yesterday, and even had trouble getting him out of my head all day today. I might have had a nervous breakdown, or... what's it called? Panic attack? I don't know if I've ever actually had one, but ponies talk about them like they're frequent, and I've had feelings like that before, a lot of times. I still don't know if they were ever serious enough to be called panic attacks, but I definitely could have used something, or somepony, to help me calm down.

I just get to thinking and thinking, about a whole lot at the same time, and afterward I feel like a lot of the stuff on my mind wasn't actually relative, or relevant, but I know everything was tied to anything else that popped into my head. Meanwhile my heart threatened to break my ribs and sweat rolled onto my eyebrows and at one point I was even afraid I'd throw up. Again, my author's hoof might be unintentionally dramatizing it, so don't worry about me. I'm OK now.

Anyway, I'd been thinking about Churner and... How could he do that? He spills our secret, blames himself, gets yelled at by my dad, goes into hiding, then laughs it off and kisses me? He's basically the opposite of me. Right? I would have gotten yelled at and hid, but I wouldn't try to shut ponies out. Maybe I might have sought solitude. Still, it would have taken a lot more for me to end up changing my mind. Besides, I wouldn't have let the secret out! Well... I might have, to Minty. I can trust her, right? I could. I still can! I guess I can't trust my dad though. Well, I can now, I guess. No, can I? Memory loss doesn't change who you are. But, why does he seem so different? Why did he suddenly accept me? It's his fault this bandage is on my head! His fault Churner kissed me again!

I need to take a breath, for a little while.

I calmed down, again, went upstairs for a drink of water and dad was there. He saw my bandages and wanted to know what had happened. I told him I fell and hit my head, the truth.

"When did that happen?"

I sigh, "Wednesday night, after dinner." It might have happened before dinner though. I had run out while mom was still cooking. Then it was dark when Dale found me, right? I must have been out cold in that hole for hours. Or I was running for longer than I remember.

Dale came in while dad and I were talking. "How's your head?" He asked.

"Much better actually," I smile weakly. "Still a bit of a headache, but the throbbing and bleeding is over I think."

Dad cuts in, "What were you doing in the woods so close to night?"

Dale looks at me, wondering if he should tell the truth; that something dad had done caused me to storm off. Truly, it was something I had done, dad just had the wrong reaction.

I'm about to explain that I was angry at somepony, or something. It’s complicated, but I intend to lie. I was flat out ready to lie to him. Or was I? I might have convinced myself otherwise, later on, but it doesn't happen because Dale cuts in, and it’s at least part true; "We were out playing. I wanted to take him on an adventure at dusk, the light looks cooler while the sun goes down. The ground was just a little uneven and he tripped."

I don't miss it, "Yeah." Basically true, we did like playing together, and based on dad's memory he might remember how often we used to. I do love the orange glow of dusk, and the uneven ground was obviously a fact.

"Well," dad says, a look like he absolutely doesn't remember, but is trying to. After all, it was just a Wednesday night. "Next time be a little more careful. Or just don't go out and play while it's getting dark."

"Yeah," Dale agrees. "Not the best idea I guess."

Dad left after that. I don't know what he was doing there in the first place. Maybe he forgot, too. I finished my drink and went to return to my room.

Dale stopped me. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah," I said. "I told you, just a little headache."

He rolls his eyes. "Obviously, but you look... tired."

"Well, yeah," what could I say? "I had some trouble sleeping last night." Literally true.

"What for?"

"Well my head hurts," I try to sound a little condescending, like he's getting on my nerves.

He shakes his head. "Why?"

Was I that easy to read? I've never let on how I felt, to anypony. I've been so discreet about my emotions. Haven't I?

He still looks at me, I look back trying not to look sad or "tired," or anything but normal. He widens his eyes insistently.

I exhale heavily, not quite a sigh. "Fine, I was thinking about Churner last night."

"Like what?"

I step away, but he's still giving me that look: that look that intends to get every fact possible.

"I went to talk to him yesterday..." I sit on the floor and look away.

He's still looking at me, I can feel it. "And...?"

I hesitate. I didn't need to tell him. Why do I feel like I need to tell him? "He...kissed me."

I still feel his stare, but it feels softer. "Did he, listen to what you had to say?"

I look back at Dale. (Are you listening to what I'm saying?) Hush. "He, avoided me at first. Then, Dawn said something, and he laughed. I got mad and he... yeah."

"Well," he stutters. What would he say? What could be said? "What the hell is his problem?"

I smile. (That's exactly what I thought!) What we thought. "I know, he's just messing with me."

"So the whole thing was a joke?"

(We thought that too!) "No," I promise, "he definitely didn't think so. He just, didn't know how to say what he felt." Was that true? Had I just explained what I had no idea about? Was the explanation so simple that I never even thought of it before now? "Regardless, it kept me up all night."

"Well, are you ok?"

"Yeah," I sigh slowly. "I'm ok now."

"What about last night?"

I look at him again. "What about it?"

"I mean, how were you feeling? Not your head, but, you?"

"I don't know." I look away again. "I felt really panicked."

"Like, an attack?"

I shake my head. "I really don't know," then look him in the eye. "I feel fine now, though. Just a little tired."

He pauses, looking for something else in my eyes. "...and the headache."

"Yeah," I close my eyes like a sarcastic “I almost forgot.” "And the headache."

"Have you had any meds yet?"

"Nope," I say casually.

He turns to the high cupboard mom hid my painkillers in; she didn't want Barley or Picker getting into them. "How about lunch?" Dale asks.

I didn't realize it was so close to noon. Usually mom starts making lunch around now. Then, why was dad home?

I shake my head as he gives me a pill. He goes to put more water in my glass. "Did you even have breakfast?"

"No." He's about to give me the glass.

He stops. "Is Churner the only thing you've been thinking about?"

"Nope." I throw the pill into my mouth, then take the water from Dale to wash it down easy. I don't explain anything else to him, just smile dumbly.

"All right," he says skeptically. "What do you want for lunch?"

That surprised me. "Hmm," I play along easily, "banana bread."

"Is that all? How about a sandwich?"

"On banana bread," I demand.

"Well we don't have any banana bread," he says, turning to the bread box. "Picker made some zucchini bread this morning. That's almost like banana bread."

I step toward the ice box for some butter. "The day zucchini are anything like bananas will be the day the world ends."

"Vegetables and fruits are incredibly different," he agrees before cutting four slices off the loaf. He looks at me holding the butter. "You're having a butter sandwich?"

I had forgotten, but play it off, "I said I wanted banana bread."

He laughs, then gives me my slices. I put the butter away while he gets out strawberry jam. I think strawberry jam on zucchini bread sounds gross, so I grab the mayo, Swiss cheese, and cucumbers.

We eat together on the front porch. He says something about the sunset, even though it's barely past noon. I joke about it, he jokes back. My mind is on other things.

"Why is dad home today?" I ask.

Dale's smile falls off. He's not frowning, but no longer smiling. "He thought it was Sunday."

I'm stunned. "Really?"

"Mmhmm," he seems so casual about it. Maybe I'm just overreacting. "None of us had the heart to correct him, so we let him stay home. Mom's waiting for one of his work pals to stop by and ask about him, she'll explain everything."

"Is that a good idea?"

He looks at me funny, with a mouthful of jam sandwich. "Whadaya mean?"

"I mean, what if the other mill workers don't want somepony with memory-loss working the saw?"

"Can't be that bad. You're over-thinking things again."

Obviously. But like, it's still possible.

"Whatever happens," he puts a hoof on my shoulder, mouth still full of food, "we'll make it through. Don't worry."

I look away, thoughts racing. He's right though; mom has a plan, and whatever happens won't be so bad that we won't be able to recover. I take another bite of my sandwich. It's delicious.