As most of you are probably aware by now, I collect generation one My Little Ponies from the 1980s. I have something on the order of two hundred plastic horses, a bunch of the playsets, and an open door policy toward boxes of Ponies found in attics of childhood homes. (Seriously. It's amazing how often people write me and go "I found this box, do you want it?" I have several Ponies I love very much that I acquired in this manner.)

As I slowly prepare to move, I've been sorting, indexing, and packing large portions of my Pony collection. I don't actually have a comprehensive list of what I do or don't have; a lot of my Ponies came from eBay job lots, or from the aforementioned attic finds, so there are duplicates, and Ponies whose names I don't know.

I mentioned on Twitter that I was doing this. And one of my Tweeps, a very lovely paranormal romance writer named Delilah, asked if I had her favorite, a yellow Rainbow Pony Pegasus named Skydancer. She lost her Skydancer in a fire when she was a kid. I understand losing Ponies. Part of why I collect is because I lost my childhood collection before I was ready to part with it. I affirmed that I did have Skydancer, and more, that I had a duplicate, and would she like her?

She would like her.

Skydancer has reached Delilah, and is finally home. I have reunited someone with their favorite Pony. And it strikes me that this is the thing we often don't want to understand about fear, or pain, or grief, or loss. Sometimes, we need to focus on the little things to survive the big ones. When a house burns down, we mourn a toy. When a grandparent dies, we get upset about missing a TV show. It's not being petty. It's coping with small so the big doesn't break you.

To quote Delilah: "I have Skydancer again. It's like a tiny little wound in my soul healed, risen like a rainbow-haired phoenix. What is lost can be found."

I feel like the world is going to be okay today.

Today is a day for poetry.

My poem, "Post-Modern Cinderella," has been published in the summer issue of Goblin Fruit, along with many other lovely things, by many other lovely people. Cat is telling Persephone's story all over again (we are forever telling Persephone's story, apples and snow, pomegranates and winter, lilies on a grave), there is Coyote, and Apollo, and a beauty in a tower. You should go and read and be filled with fairy tales, because fairy tales exist to fill the hollow places.

And also and also and also: my darling Mia, of chimera_fancies, who has made me so many beautiful fairy tales to hang on ribbons 'round my neck, is selling little bits of Bordertown for you to take, and wear, and love. They're made from ARCs of Welcome to Bordertown, and they're amazing.

As with all Mia's pendants, each piece is unique, hand-made, and waiting for the right person to claim it. You should take a look; one of them may be singing for you, waiting for you to come and carry it away.

And that is the time, and that is the tide, and there are pomegranate ices in the garden. I'll see you soon.