#LoIsInDaBl Day 25: So Far Away…

NOTE:  I was away, visiting faraway friends and family, when this post was intended to be scheduled. I was unable to post it, and the two following it.  Over the course of this week, I’ll be posting my “Missing Four” Love Is In Da Blog posts, as written, and resuming my typical posting schedule. As always,  I hope you enjoy!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Today’s #LoIsInDaBl prompt from Bee is “faraway friends”. I have many friends, all over the world. Some I’ve made through unschooling events, or during our travels, or while working at various places around the country -Grand Canyon  friends, Oregon friends, Yellowstone friends…the internet is a wonderful way to keep in touch with them, so that we can remain friends in a way that we might not be, without.

I have other faraway friends that I met online. Some are far enough removed from me that I am never likely to meet them in person…and yet, with Internet access, we can connect, help one another, laugh and cry and grow together…

But there are other times when I get the privilege of meeting friends I’ve only known online. This week has that potential; and, by the time it’s over, some people who’ve been only online friends, until now, will be attached to faces, voices, and memories. Yes, within days we’ll be faraway friends again, but the memories and the new knowing will remain.

And, for the friends who are still faraway – there’s always the chance that life will carry us closer together…

And, if not, distance doesn’t define friendship – friends do! =)

Do you have faraway friends? Why not take a step to connect or reconnect today?

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#LoIsInDaBl Day 24: My Best Friend, My Syster

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

NOTE:  I was away, visiting faraway friends and family, last week. Due to an internet SNAFU, I was unable to post.  Over the course of this week, I’ll be posting my “Missing Four” Love Is In Da Blog posts, as written, and resuming my typical posting schedule. As always,  I hope you enjoy!

Today, Bee prompts us to talk about our best friends. I’m lucky enough to have had the same best friend since we were children. Her name is Eden, and she’s been my bestie for so long, there’s almost nothing in my life that she hasn’t touched. We first met when we were four, at a penny auction. I remember a small, dark-haired girl, and that we mostly just smiled at each other from the relative safety of our mothers’ sides.

It wasn’t until we were nine that we became best friends. We were in the same Brownies troop. We found much more inspiration in one another – in talking about Breyer‘s horses, which we both collected, and real ones, too. We weren’t yet connected in other ways, because we were in separate classes in school, and lived a few miles apart.

The following year, though, we were in the same fifth grade class – and that’s the year we became inseparable. It was a relationship charged with friction – we both lived lives that didn’t equip us to negotiate the conflicts that arose, and both of our parents held the other up as a goal to aspire to – which, of course, set us up to be rivals.

But it was worth it. She introduced me to Middle Earth, and, during a visit to her house, to her neighbor’s horse, Keko. She had a blue-eyed copper husky named Nina; my parents were determined not to have a dog until we could afford a bulldog, my father’s favorite breed. We drew horse pictures all year long – hundreds of pictures, maybe even thousands. When the weather was nice, and we were turned loose on the school grounds, we walked and talked and pretended we were horses, and made a hideout where a shrub had grown all around the trunk of a big old oak.

When summer came, we both spent our days at the local pool, Round Top. We had swim lessons in the morning, and there were craft classes and games to play – but, mostly, we hung out on the expansive sloping lawn. I had three siblings to get away from; siblings with whom there were already plenty of stresses. She and I set our towels out on the lawn together each day, and there we talked of hobbits and running away from home, stealing the horse, who would be transportation for us and our belongings – we were ten; we figured she could live on grass, and we didn’t consider winter.

When I look back on the things that most matter to me, the lifetime passions, she’s all wrapped up in them. It was Eden who introduced me to Star Trek, when we were in seventh grade. She wanted me to watch, or to read the James Blish novelizations, and I resisted until she wore me down with her insistence. I read “Spock’s Brain” (the definition of camp), and I was hooked. It only got better from there. She’s right there at the root of my lifelong and abiding passion for Vulcans.

Our running-away plans now included using an old Ford engine her father had to power a starship. We began designing humorous control panels for an imaginary Enterprise, and added graffiti boards where we’d write funny messages. From there, we expanded to shared fan fiction stories, which we passed back and forth throughout our high school days. Eventually, we had several stories going at once, so neither of us would have to wait for a story to play with.

Those stories, some of which she still has, were embarrassingly bad, but they’re where we both cut our writing teeth. From those humble beginnings sprang the roots of her story worlds, and my own. They’ve diverged, over the decades since, but they grew in common ground, and my Trueborn double series wouldn’t be what it is, without her.

It was Eden who introduced me to an array of music I might not have discovered without her. Men at Work, a-ha – and Paul Simon, whose music has now been inspiring me and enriching my life for nearly thirty years.

Once, during our late teens, I even inherited one of her old boyfriends!

We live a little over an hour from each other, now, and life has currently taken us in different directions. But we are like sisters (in actuality, I do see her as my spirit-sister, and I’m much closer to her than to my sister by birth). We get together when we can, and often enjoy hours of writing, chatting, and just being together -alone, or with our children, who look on each other as informal cousins.

A couple of years ago, during a long chat about our writing, while we sat in her car in the parking lot of a coffee shop where we’d spent the last few hours, she mentioned a new Star Trek show – Enterprise. I hadn’t seen it, and I was resistant to the idea. But what she said stuck, and, a few months later, I found the show on Netflix...

If you’ve read here a few times, you know how that turned out – that Enterprise, and particularly Trip and T’Pol, have become a passion. Um, to say the least… =)

I would be a different version of myself, without Eden. I can only hope I’ve offered something of similar value.

I love you, Sys! =)

Do you have a best friend? I’d love to hear your stories!

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Long, long ago – and side by side. =)

SoCS and #LoISInDaBl Day 28: “I Am, and Ever Shall Be, Your Friend”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Today at Love Is In Da Blog , Bee  is teaming up with Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday for a joint prompt: friend/aquaint”.

I was ready to get on a plane in Portland, Oregon yesterday morning when I read this. I didn’t have time to absorb before I was embroiled in a cross-country marathon journey with my family.

Today, there’s only one topic for me to write about…

Okay, I haven’t been here for a while, and it feels a little weird to be here now. But my vacation is over, and I’ve been back in upstate New York for about 24 hours now. A chunk of my unpacking is done, and, in a very mellow way befitting my state of mind and the lassitude of a three-hour time shift after a day of travel, I’m catching up on some writerly things that were set aside while I enjoyed some quality time with family and friends.

This is likely to be a scattered bit of writing. I’m full of thoughts and emotions that don’t translate so well into language. Oceans and tides are moving within me, swelling and ebbing. I’m simply allowing them to flow, and I’ll do the same with these words.

I feel I’ve lost a friend today. No. It’s more than a feeling. I have lost a friend.

Maybe we all have, even if we don’t know it.

Let me go back a bit…

Back to when I was just a little girl. I’m in my bedroom. The odds are enormous that I’m reading. It’s about 1976 or so, and there is one TV in our house – a 19″ console model that resides in our living room. We get four channels: ABC, NBC, CBS, and PBS. My parents control what we watch and when.

I hear a familiar voice from the living room, and I go as fast as I can to the love seat, where I love to curl up to watch. The voice has pulled me, and my mother laughs at me.

“I’m Leonard Nimoy, and this is In Search Of…”

Those might not be the actual words he spoke, that serious man with the deep, soothing voice. It doesn’t matter. He opened windows and doors to other places, times, and ways of being. He added riddles to my life.

He made it OK to think about things, to wonder, to fantasize.

I was only mildly aware that that man was an actor, or that he’d played a half-alien named Spock. This was the mid-seventies, after all, and Trekkies were much more underground. My parents didn’t like Star Trek – and we didn’t watch shows they didn’t like. There was no Internet, no cable in our home, no TiVo or even video tapes.

I was thirteen before I really became aware of him in that other role, and he opened up my life in new and profound ways.

I’ve never been the same. Spock entered, and acted as a catalyst. I’m not who I would have been, without the Vulcans.

And the Vulcans wouldn’t be who they are without Leonard.

They might have been a joke, or a token alien species without life or depth. It was the integrity that very first Vulcan gave to his adopted and assumed paternal lineage that offered territory worth exploring and expanding.

If you’ve read here before, you probably noticed that I kind of have a rather intense fascination with Vulcans. It might look, at times, like a fangirl crush – and to some extent it is.

But, like the tiny shift in the light in a Vulcan’s eyes, it’s far more profound than what can be seen on the surface.

For over three decades, Spock has shaped my life. In the last two years, T’Pol has come to do her part. But she couldn’t exist as she does, without her predecessor.

And Leonard made him real – for me, for others, for us all. He took Spock and Vulcanness seriously, and that gave them the ability to become something far more than what they might have been. And that, in turn, gave me the ability to become something far more than I might have been.

That’s something that friends do.

Through Spock, and In Search Of…, I came to see the world and myself as a diverse wonderland. I’ve come to see learning and knowing and imagining as valuable uses of time. I’ve absorbed something of gentleness and kindness, of passion and acceptance of others. These things weren’t part of my daily life as a child. It was Spock – and Leonard – who gave them to me.

Farewell, my friend I never met. You lived well, and with a certain quiet dignity layered over deep passions. You lived in a way I think a certain Vulcan would approve of.

I will miss you, and knowing you’re alive somewhere in the same world I live in. I will always be grateful that, for a time, we shared this world, and that you offered your gifts and your vision to us.

And I will remember.

Find more SoCS posts, and celebrate the meme’s first birthday, here!

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Float down the Stream With Us!

Float down the Stream With Us!

#BOAW: The Beauty That Is… Me!

Find more Beauty of A Woman posts by clicking the icon.

This post is part of August McLaughlin‘s Beauty of a Woman Blogfest …an annual celebration of beauty in all its forms…for more, here’s August herself! =D

What makes you feel beautiful? What’s helped you embrace your body/appearance as it is? What area are you still working on—or should you? What makes you feel sexy? What helped you embrace, rather than shame, your sexuality? What’s stopping you? How do you define real beauty or sex appeal? Who epitomizes beauty and sexiness, IYO? What advice would you give your younger self or a girl in your life about beauty and/or sexuality? 

I’ll admit it. When I say that I know I’m beautiful, I still find myself resisting the urge to turn around and look over my shoulder. You see, I was raised to believe that it was immodest, and therefore undesirable and maybe even wrong, to compliment myself. I was told that it was bragging or ‘fishing for compliments’.

Well, I am beautiful. And I don’t think it’s bragging or unseemly to say so. My beauty is an accomplishment, a tribute to years of learning, work, healing, and self-discovery. I’ve delved beneath the layers and levels of conditioning, drained and stitched festering old wounds, and adjusted my inner and outer vision until I could see not only the beauty all around me, but also that which has been within me, all along.

Yes, I look back now at pictures of me as a little girl, and as a young woman – and I see someone beautiful – without the confidence to see or know her own beauty, or her own strength.

I first realized it by accident, a few years ago; I was at my parents’ house, when my attention was caught by one snapshot of a lovely young girl with long wavy blonde hair, sitting on a picnic table with her legs drawn up beneath her. I stared at her for minutes, trying to place her.

She was me. I’d been about sixteen then, and deeply insecure about my appearance. That wavy blonde hair? Wouldn’t do a thing I wanted it to. This was the 80s, the decade of big hair and oodles of hair spray to hold it. Only, my thick hair simply would not be tamed, insisting on doing its own wild thing…

At nineteen, with Aviendha. Thin, but unhappily embroiled in an abusive and toxic relationship.

I thought I was too skinny. I’d been a late bloomer, and held onto the image that I was a scrawny girl, long after I wasn’t anymore.

When I saw that old picture, I saw a beautiful girl smiling or laughing at something long forgotten…

Caught in that unguarded moment of not caring how I looked, I was beautiful. And that was the beginning of healing, for me.

As I’ve healed and grown and explored my own inner terrain, bits and pieces of it rise to my surfaces. No, I’m not sixteen anymore – but there’s more light and love and life in my eyes now. I don’t spend a lot of time considering how I look to other people – there’s too much else to think about, and see, and do. I’ve found not only my beauty, but my strength. I spend my time in a way that delights me, surrounded by people I love.

Brand new mom with two day old Jeremiah.

Sure, I’m no longer the thin young girl I once was – but the thickening of my body is the result of nearly forty-six years of life, almost eighteen years of being married to a mighty fine chef (I don’t just mean that he cooks for me; he actually IS a professional chef). It’s a consequence of having carried and given birth to three children in the space of four years. To some extent, I’ve been thickened by grief – the grief that comes with the loss of our second child twelve days after his birth.

I’ve found joy, and purpose, in the aftermath of that tragedy. There’s something beautiful in that – in embracing love and life and possibility, when I might’ve chosen a different path – one of bitterness, or rage, or betrayal…

With my kids in Lake George, NY, fall 2013. I’m beautiful when I’m happy and fulfilled!

I’ve found a beauty that comes from my deepest places, my most intimate self. And, by bits and pieces, I’ve given it the space to shine through. The more confident I grow in myself, the more beautiful I grow.

My hair? It’s darker, now, and scattered liberally with silver. It’s still as wild – but now, I see that as a reflection of a more elemental part of my own nature, and I love it. It suits me. So do the new lines in my face, the roadmap of my own personal history I wear with pride of ownership.

Mine may not be a ‘classic’ beauty – but it is my own, born of my history and my personal journey, and I claim it for my own.

What makes you beautiful?

Find more Beauty of A Woman blogposts here!

Making my own dreams – like being a published writer – a priority in my life makes me beautiful!

#LoIsInDaBl Day 22: I’ve Got Friends…

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

 Here we are, already at Week 4 of Love Is In Da Blog. Bee‘s  theme for this last week is “friends.

Actually, I have quite a lot of them, scattered across the globe. Now, that’s something I never imaging possible, when I was a young girl, about forty years back.

We live in a changing world. Some things are scary – the hatred that runs through our species, polluting it as surely as we’ve polluted this spinning blue marble that is home to us all…

And some things, like the ability to have a wonderfully diverse array of friends, are really quite amazing, and altogether delightful.

My own children take it for granted, and don’t bat an eye about having best friends in another state, or playmates from around the world. Skype, Facebook, Omegle, YouTube, and keep them connected. My daughter, at 10, has also recently fallen in love with sending out paper letters on pretty stationery in the old-fashioned way.

There are some people who would say that online friends aren’t “real”. But I think that depends on a lot of things. How do we define “friend”? Or “real”, for that matter?

In my own case, I’ve now met dozens of friends in person who used to be only online friends. Some have become lifelong friends in real life. Others remain more like acquaintances. There’s only been one I can think of that I chose not to remain friendly with – and it was a conflict of ideologies and lifestyles that would ultimately have ended the relationship, one way or another.

I’ve got another group of friends, too – the characters who populate my story worlds, and cavort in my imagination…

This week, we celebrate friendship in its many forms!

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SoCS and #LoISInDaBl Day 21:”A Helluva Team”

Float down the Stream With Us!

Float down the Stream With Us!

For today, Bee‘s prompt is “you/me.  Linda‘s is “relative/relativity”And, yup – the Vulcan in my head, and the human who loves her, decided to hijack this post, too – rather delightfully, I think. I hope you agree!

Disclaimer: Although I believe T’Pol and Trip have their own ideas about it, Paramount claims ownership.

“Who’s that for?” Jon jabbed a finger at the tea.

“T’Pol.” I knew he wasn’t going to take it well, but the best option seemed to be brazening through. “And, if you’ll excuse me, Cap’n, I want to get it to her while it’s still hot.” I turned, and he barely got out of my way in time. I figured the hot liquids might be all that stopped him from decking me. Did I look and act this stupid, when my testosterone was up?

“From my observations, it seems to be endemic to your species.” But there was teasing acceptance behind her thought-message. “However, your possessiveness troubles me considerably less; perhaps it’s a relative matter, or that I am yours…”

“We talkin’ in our heads, now, pepperpot?”

“Yes. I would appreciate receiving my tea while its still hot.”

“Trip?” Jon was peering at me, now, as though he couldn’t decide whether to be mad or concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, Cap’n. Just an aftereffect of the meld, I guess. Didn’t know she could still talk to me.”

“What did she say?” There was a little too much emphasis on the ‘she’. I hoped like hell he was going to get over this possessive streak when he recovered from those Orion pheremones, because this wasn’t making adjusting to the bond, or that second bombshell she’d dropped, about needing to mate so she wouldn’t die, any easier.

“Said she likes her tea hot, and that I should get a move on.”

“T’Pol said that?”

“I could be paraphrasing.” I smiled. “She’s a helluva lot more formal than I am, after all.”

I got to the door, and Jon pushed the button, then followed me through. Any hope I had that he’d let it drop evaporated when he said, “Trip, what’s going on between you and T’Pol?”

I was at a loss – but then, words and ideas came into my head – a way to reveal just enough, without actually lying – or really answering the question. I surrendered to the master, and let myself be her conduit, lending her my own voice and tone. “Well, Cap’n, she’s too polite to say anything -“

“T’Pol’s not that polite, Trip. And I’ve never known her to hold back when she’s got something to say – any more than you do.”

“You and me, pepperpot – the loudmouths of the ship.” I found that more amusing than she did. To Jon, I said, “You’ve never been seduced by an Orion slave girl before, either, sir. But you have been now – and so have the rest of the men aboard – even, I’ve heard, the ones that don’t usually think of women as potential partners.” I had to admit, I felt sorriest for those guys – bad enough to be overwhelmed, but to be attracted to someone who would never normally turn your head – there was something cruel in that…

“Except you.” That was an accusation, pure and simple. “Why, Trip? T’Pol’s immune. You’re immune. Nobody else.”

“I’m not a doctor. If Phlox doesn’t know, how the hell am I supposed to? Maybe it’s that we work together a lot. Maybe it’s the neuropressure, or the melding – or even the dance lessons – I just don’t know.” We had our suspicions, but it was true that we didn’t know for certain that the bond was the reason. “Anyway – there’s been a lot of sexual frustration around lately, and a lot of fighting. And a lot of excess, angsty emotional energy floating around. She couldn’t hide from it while you weren’t able to do your duty, but she can now that you’re – more or less- functional again.”

“But she can tolerate you? Trip, when she first got here, I was damned near positive you were going to kill her. After I saw her fight a time or two, I was damned near positive she was going to kill you.” Finally, Jon cracked a smile.

“And now look at us. I’m bringin’ her tea, like I’m all civilized.” I felt T’Pol’s awareness sharpening – she could feel the punch line coming, even if she didn’t use those words. And she knew I was getting closer…I could feel her quiver of arousal humming back to life. “Lusty little pepperpot,” I thought to her, and something sinuous and swift passed through my mind, catlike and tempting. “But I’ll tell you a secret, Cap’n, if you promise not to tell her.”

“I promise.”

I grinned at him as we neared her door. “I’m just waiting till her back’s turned. I was the fastest short-sheeter in summer camp, and I’ll just bet Vulcan kids don’t pull pranks – hell, maybe they don’t even have summer camp – I mean, it’s a desert world, and all that…what would the counselors say -‘OK, kids, go jump in the sand dunes?'”

“Trip, I order you not to short-sheet Commander T’Pol’s bed.” Jon chuckled. We were at her door, now, and he pressed the button. He peered in; thankfully, T’Pol was sitting facing us, eyes open, but still in meditative pose. “Watch him, T’Pol – he’s got designs on your bedding. Dinner, nineteen hundred. Both of you. Enjoy your tea.”

T’Pol sighed deeply as she accepted her mug, her fingers lingering on mine, seductive in a way I’d never known, before her. “You handled that well, Trip.”

Me? Not all by myself. It was you and me, pepperpot.” It was tempting fate, but I couldn’t resist. I took those fingers, very carefully, and brushed my lips over the backs of her fingers. She moaned softly, trembling.

Like you said, Trip, we make a helluva team.”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Looking for more Love Is In Da Blog? Find it right here! https://justfoolingaroundwithbee.wordpress.com/2015/02/08/love-is-in-da-blog-february-ping-back-post-rulessuggestions-week2/


#LoISInDaBl Day 20:”T’Pol Visits T’Mir”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!


For today, Bee‘s  prompt is “grandparents”. I had an essay in mind, but I live with this Vulcan woman in my head, and she had other ideas – and so, you get a vignette from T’Pol’s childhood…

Disclaimer: Although I believe T’Pol is a law unto herself, Paramount claims ownership.

Here, we have TMir, as a young woman on 1950s Earth…

“You will comport yourself appropriately at your first foremother’s home.” Mother was calm; I wondered at what age I would be able to control my responses to that degree. Or, perhaps, Mother had no emotional responses to control. It was logical to assume that the possibility existed. I wondered if it would be possible to devise an algorithm by which I might calculate the possibility. Certainly, that was a more interesting and useful pursuit than listening to her say the same things, in the same tone, in precisely the same order as she had ever other time I had come to stay with T’Mir.

I allowed my mind to sink into the puzzle as the groundcar angled up the final hills to the home of my oldest living ancestress…better that than reveal my ‘unseemly anticipation’.

“T’Pol, you are not attending to your mother’s directives with sufficient focus.” I blinked – when had we stopped?

“Yes, Father. Mother, I will do my best.” I gathered my bags and passed them to Father before disembarking.

“See that you do.”

That was all the parting I had from her. Father leaned in close to me, and something quick and alive flashed in his eyes. “May you find your time agreeable, daughter.”

Mother was already turning toward the groundcraft, and wouldn’t see. Had she planned this, to allow us this moment together? I didn’t know, but I pressed my fingers against Father’s in a filial ouz’hesta, attempting to memorize his bioeletric signature, so that I could hold it in my mind, during the time we would be apart.

And then he was turning to join Mother, and I was alone at the entrance to my first foremother’s sand garden. I opened the gate and passed within. It was too near zenith for T’Mir to be comfortable coming to greet me; she was very aged, and had grown frail.

“My T’Pol. Come, child, and let me relearn your face.”

It was pleasingly cool and dim inside; the candlelight made flickering shadows on the walls – and the shrunken woman seated before the bank of candles. My emotions became intense, and I hurried to her, eager for her touch, for her stories – for her acceptance of me, precisely as I was, always. For the learning she offered, of a people far away, a people most Vulcans found primitive, lacking the discipline of a mature culture, chaotic and dangerous.


I went to her, settled on my knees beside her.

“Will you allow me to touch you, T’Pol? My eyes no longer adjust well, after I’ve watched the flames.”

I had to focus on each word; here, when we were alone, we spoke only in English, the dominant language on Earth. She waited, blinking as she watched me. “Yes, T’Mir,” I said, when I was certain I understood her intent.

Her hands felt like desert breezes against my skin, and I breathed in the warmth of the touch, so different than Mother’s. “How can it be that a mother and daughter are so unlike one another?” I hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud, but there was nothing to be done, once it was said.

T’Mir’s breath released in some way I’d never heard from anyone else – was it something she had acquired, when she lived amongst the humans? “Are you thinking of the differences between me and my daughter, T’Pol – or yourself and your mother?”

“T’Les seems unlike both of us,” I replied.

“Humans have an expression: ‘Some things skip a generation’. Perhaps it is true, and there are things in my nature that I passed, through genetic inheritance, not to her, but instead, through her, to you.”

“Do you think it is so, T’Mir?” Her fingers trembled slightly; I was reminded again that she was very old, and couldn’t be expected to live much longer.

“Perhaps, child, and perhaps not. But it’s most agreeable to have you here with me, and know that you’re of like mind.”

“Tell me how I may serve you.” I wanted to do something for her; something that would, however illogically, allow me to forget her mortality, even if only for only a short time.

That strange breathing sound again. ” Simply be as you are, T’Pol. I live alone, most of the time, and I’m well capable of meeting my needs.”

“I -” I paused for a moment, attempting to choose the most precise human term to express my emotions. Terrans had a great diversity in such terms; it was something I wondered at. “I wish to serve you.”

“Ah, T’Pol. Such a serious child – do you know that children on Earth are seldom so? That play is often considered their main occupation?” Gentle fingers stroked my hair. “You will serve me best by being as you are, and doing what pleases you.”

“I will prepare tea,” I decided. But, as I went to her kitchen and tended to it, her words remained in my mind.

‘You will serve me best by being as you are, and doing what pleases you.’

As I watched the water carefully, so that no drop would be wasted, I wondered at the alien concept. Neither Mother nor Father, nor anyone but her, had ever asked me to consider what pleased me. Suddenly, with T’Mir’s statement, there seemed something amiss in that, that my life would be orchestrated without any consideration of my – my wishes.

But was that not the way of a Vulcan life?

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 And the blooper fun as T’Pol entertains the humans who asked for a story- two hundred years later.