The grey mailmare slogged through the slushy streets of Ponyville. Her scarf was soaked, her hooves frozen, and her mane had about an inch of snowcover. Her back felt like it was going to break from the twin anchors of saddlebags slung across it. She looked around dejectedly at the cheery beckoning glow that came from everypony’s house, inviting all who would to come into the warmth. Sadly, it was not for her; she still had her duties to perform.

She had known that this week would be busy. She had arrived at the train station an hour before the morning train, and gave a helping hoof sorting the outgoing mail, bagging it, and then, after the train arrived, repeating the process with the incoming mail. As soon as her route was ready, she strapped on her saddlebags and set out in the quiet morning calm.

She was not alone in this endeavor, of course. Many of the local farmers helped pull wagons with the larger packages; she had spent two days at the beginning of the week accompanied by none other than Big McIntosh. Despite the fact that he rarely spoke more than one word every quarter-hour, it felt nice to have company in what was often a solitary pursuit.

Today, however, there had been no large packages, and she had been alone all day. Unlike most days, she had to make multiple trips back to the post office, as her saddlebags were not large enough to carry the volume of mail. Each time added another half-hour to her route.

To make matters worse, it had started to snow mid-day.

As she passed by Sugarcube Corner, the scent of baked sweets wafting forth nearly broke her resolve, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to not just gallop inside and have a hot chocolate or three, and a few muffins. But the mail had to be delivered.

As she trudged by the store, she heard the gleeful cries of the Cake’s foals, and her heart ached with loneliness. Her own foals were at home, no doubt missing her, and she couldn’t be there for them. She always tried to be home before Dinky got out of school and Sparkler finished work, but that was unmanageable this time of year.

There were but a few more stops for her, and she had no intention of going back to the post office tonight; she would see it soon enough in the morning. Legs numb, she knocked on a few more doors, handed over a few more mouthfuls of letters, and finally--finally!--headed towards her house.

Walking up the front walk warmed her heart immeasurably. The light-post in front of her house had been liberally festooned with ribbons and garland, and candles graced all the open windows. A beautiful wreath framed the window in the front door, and a herd of snowponies occupied the front lawn. She smiled, seeing snow-pegasi with fir wings, snow-unicorns with carrot horns, and, of course, the traditional broom-tailed variety of earth pony. As she got close to the door, the inviting smell of thick stew and fresh-baked sugar cookies drifted forth enticingly.

As tempting as it was to just bolt inside, she stopped on the stoop for a moment to remove her soggy boots, managing to grip all four in her teeth as she pushed open the door. She hardly made it inside before Sparkler was levitating them towards the fire, and Dinky wrapped around her neck in a huge hug.

She dragged her into their living room, tossing the saddlebags with practiced ease onto the table, before returning the hug.

“I need to finish the soup,” Sparkler announced, as she walked into the kitchen. “Do you want to help me, Dinks?”

“I wanna stay with mommy,” Dinky pouted.

“That’s my muffin.” She ran a hoof through Dinky's mane. “Come on, mommy needs to get cleaned off, so she doesn’t drip everywhere.”

As the steaming hot water ran across her tired, cold body, she once again thanked whatever ponies had invented indoor plumbing and hot water heaters. She could feel the tension in her back relaxing, and the sluggish circulation in her extremities work its way back to normal. Just outside the shower curtain, Dinky kept up a constant monologue of the day’s events, in the breathlessly excited way only foals have of describing a perfectly ordinary day. When she finally stepped out of the shower, Sparkler was waiting with a huge fluffy towel and wasted no time drying her off.

Finally feeling warm and relaxed, she sat down at the kitchen table with a giant bowl of hot barley soup, which warmed up everything the shower couldn’t. After eating more sugar cookies than was strictly necessary, she got up to wash the dishes, but Sparkler waved a hoof at her.

“They’ll keep until the morning.”

“Didja get anything today mommy?” Dinky looked at the saddlebags brightly. She nodded, and the three made their way into the living room.

One by one, she pulled envelopes and packages from her saddlebags. Candies, hats, scarves and baked goods soon adorned the living room table, and the mantle was covered with a fresh swath of cards. Everypony on her route had given her something.

Dinky bounced around excitedly, reading each one, and taking a small sample of each kind of cookie, while she relaxed on the couch next to Sparkler, occasionally sipping on a tall glass of hot chocolate through a pink straw that was a near perfect match to Sparkler’s fur. Before too long, Dinky’s sugar rush became a sugar crash, and as she listlessly patrolled the table for a sweet she hadn’t tried yet, her head hung lower and lower, until she finally struggled up onto the couch, snuggled up next to her mother, and unceremoniously fell asleep.

As the fire burned low, Sparkler grabbed a half-full bottle of brandy--a gift from yesterday--and poured two glasses. The two sat side-by-side on the couch, saying nothing, just listening to Dinky’s soft snores, the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the occasional pops and crackles from the fire. As she sat, a wing around each daughter, she smiled; this truly was the most wonderful time of the year.

Author's Notes:

The Mail Must Go Through

Admiral Biscuit, 2012