Minty Swirl just told me she's moving to a place down south called Bucksfield. She says her mom found an actual location for a good ice cream shop. They could make a fortune by not having to pay as much for ice to preserve the cream. Her father is staying, claiming it's better to make butter with fresh cream rather than preserved cream. I guess I spoke too soon then, last time.

She's clearly torn, when I see her. We happened upon each other in the library. We both heard they're planning to re-open the museum, but regardless;

"Your parents..." I don't finish.

"It was bound to happen." She sighed, sounding almost relieved. "They just weren't right for each other. They don't love each other like we do." She jabbed an elbow into my ribs. I messed with my glasses and kept walking.

Inside, a librarian is offering a tour of the museum before renovations. It’s tempting but we refuse: then head up anyway, acting like we're sneaking.

"Do you have to go, though?" I begin once we start climbing the alarmingly steep staircase. "You graduated a whole year early..." I sometimes forgot that she’s almost two years younger than me. With as much as she has, and does, she always seems so mature. "...but, you are old enough to move out now."

She looks at me apologetically. "She's doing it for me, though. An ice cream store, in a suburban setting, it's what I've almost always wanted. I was always afraid I'd have to wait until Green Stables advanced down the timeline, but we're still stuck here." She's quiet for a few steps. I swallow a lump in my throat, and I guess she heard it or something. "I'm sorry, I'm leaving you. You're right, I don't need –"

"Stop." I stop her. Well, yeah... "This is your dream. Mine is in Manehatten. We were bound to move apart eventually."

"But, it's too unexpected," she tries justifying her decision to stay.

I notice we're at the top of the stairs. I don't look around, no matter how much I've always wanted to. "Look at the past," I tell her.

She shakes her head slow, "No, look for –"

"Looking to the future won't teach you. You might learn, but it won't teach you." I don't think I really know what I'm saying. "The future throws you into a nightmare, or a dream, and once that experience is past, you have to look back and think; 'What did I learn?' Only when it's past does the future look any good."

She smiles at me. "Then I hope I've been a future worth remembering."

I smile back and hug her. She's soft and actually smells really minty. I hope to never forget that smell. “So look to the past,” I continue my thought. “We basically grew up together, and growing up together doesn’t mean we grow the same way.”

I hear her laugh a little. Or, maybe it was a tiny sob? I could never tell when we hugged for this long. “So,” she says suddenly, “birds of a feather don’t always fly together?” I laugh a bit too, but I am a little sad. “You know,” she says next, “I can never tell if you’re laughing or crying on my shoulder.”

I chuckle again, mostly because I know it’ll confuse her some more. “I was just thinking the same thing. I’ll make it easy for you though; I’m laughing.”

“Me too,” she admits silently.

When we break off she looks all around and whistles in disbelief. "I doubt this place was ever anypony's future."

I laugh, even though it's silly. Now I understand, writing this at home; it was our future, being up there, exploring. I wish I had told her then that that's the truth. Then again, it would have taken away from the experience.

Sorry for the break, I had to go to dinner. Anyway...

Minty knows my address, so she's in charge of writing a letter to me first. Whatever happens, we'll try to keep in touch for as long as we really feel like. Eventually, one of us will start getting lazy, and the other won't write until they get a letter first, for fear of appearing clingy. That will spiral and in the end, we'll lose touch all together. Later on I'll be thinking of the past and remember her. I might be happy when I do, but I might be sad that I just added another friend to the list of "passed." Or, maybe "past." Either one makes sense, really.

Anyway, I was thinking about what I said before I left for dinner. Mostly, I realized how often I actually do that same thing; think of what I want to say only after the conversation has passed. Usually much later, and I spend the rest of the day or night wishing I could do it again and say what I just thought of.

I did it all the time in the past, especially with my brothers, extra-especially whenever we argued. Even though I never really argued, I’d always lay in bed the night following and think of what I should have said. What I would have said, if I was a different pony. I’m sure I’d do a lot of things differently if I wasn’t me. I’d make more friends, I might not be so awkward, or so dependent on my parents’ approval. Maybe I wouldn’t even be gay, who knows? Well, there’s one pony who would know, considering he’s basically the better me. I’m not ready to talk about him though.

So I was just sitting here thinking of Minty and I realized; with her it was different. I didn't stress about wishing I'd done something differently, because ultimately, I was happy with how things happened. We were happy. As long as I can remember her that way, everything will be fine.

I'm going to talk to Churner tomorrow, Minty's dad. Being the only one left in the local creamery, maybe he'll need an extra set of hooves. As long as I'm paid. Whatever happens, I do have to keep moving forward: I don't want to stay here past my twentieth birthday.