Simple Gifts

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Personal Log Stardate 5106060.4

Cmdr Jami Farrington, MD

Starfleet Headquarters, Sector 001

 

Simple Gifts

 

Gren DeJariov could not have made a better choice in putting Jami and Atragon in VIP quarters rather than in those set aside for patients and their families. As she sat on the balcony of their apartment, her head leaning back against her husband's chest, Jami realized she could not remember when, if ever, they had truly been together. Of course there had been times on Risa, occasional midnight jaunts in the captain's yacht, and stops at various planets for R&R, but there had always been the ship looming, and a constant threat of instant call to duty hanging in the air. Here - with Manticore decommissioned - they were blessed with precious time together, time that no one, nothing could take away.

 

Jami had forgotten the joy of experiencing the simple things in life, many of which she had taken for granted before Manticore -- walking a woodland path together, eating with Atragon without interruption, watching the sun set to the tune of a rustling sea breeze, and being assured that she would fall sleep and wake the next morning with her husband beside her.

 

She was healing more quickly than expected because of this. Not to say that rest and relaxation was the only treatment prescribed, but just to be reminded of life, to have her mind relieved of duty as well as her body, made all the difference. Of course a part of her would always be with Manticore, but in truth she had built her life around medicine, around healing - and wasn't that ironic? Physician heal thyself is a quote much misused, often tossed aside as a joke or biting sarcasm. In truth, physicians could not heal themselves -- much as they would like to -- and were more prone to deny themselves treatment than to seek it.

 

So here she was, healing.

 

But as she sipped Atragon's expertly concocted iced tea, a question needled her consciousness and she gave a soft sigh. Perhaps they were not alone after all, since Dr. Wadi's question had interrupted the view. Think seriously about living planetside for an extended period of time, she had said. Consider that you have been serving in deep space for over a decade, and do some real soul-searching before you make that decision. Though the admonition had been gentle, there remained a deep warning, and at that moment Jami realized Dr. Wadi probably knew her better than Jami knew herself.

 

Be that as it may, now was not the time to consider those things. Now was time to live - to really live - and to love. She glanced upwards at Atragon, his eyes radiant with a glow from the setting sun, and she was reminded of a poem:

 

Fear not death, my son.

Rather fear a song unsung,

A race unrun,

A deed not done.

For death is nothing more than a becoming,

But life is opportunity for loving.

~~~Ai-Li