Love you as wide as the sky…

Posted on Tue Apr 25th, 2023 @ 12:17pm by Lieutenant Tate Sullivan Ph.D.

Mission: Season 6: Episode 2: Survival
Location: Tate's sleeping area, planetside
572 words - 1.1 OF Standard Post Measure

Tate tossed and turned in her bunk, physically exhausted, but mentally unable to turn off her thoughts. It wasn't the first night she had felt restless, and she almost considered heading to the medical building to ask for something to help her sleep, but immediately, she felt guilty for thinking so. Resources were limited here, and she would much rather see any medication go to someone in pain who could use the sleep.

Reaching for a small glass of water, she took a sip and waited a few more moments, staring at the ceiling and considering her options. Finally giving up, she released a large sigh, and got out of bed, this time reaching for a PADD. She began recording, not terribly concerned with whether her thoughts made sense.

Dear Mom,

I don't know if you will ever receive this, but for now, that doesn't matter. I can't remember the last time I couldn't sleep, but I guess you could say this qualifies as extenuating circumstances. I almost requested a sleeping pill, but with our limited resources, I would feel funny taking away anything from anyone else who truly needed it. Besides, I wouldn't be much of a counselor if I didn't at least try the strategies I advocate for other people when they can't sleep.

What you lovingly referred to as the large tin can I live on has fallen apart. Knowing you, the specific explanation as to why would make your eyes glaze over, but suffice to say, I am now planetside for the foreseeable future, which I'm afraid is longer than I ever dreamed. You know me, mom, I am a realist, but even I fear my expectations haven't even begun to approach reality. I can only say that to you, mom. Something like that isn't supposed to come from a counselor's lips.

Would you believe I can't sleep here? I can remember a time when I didn't think I would be able to sleep on a starship at all. Too much activity, I remember saying to you, and I remember you just shaking your head. You never quite understood my desire to join Starfleet in the first place, did you? Short of wanting to run away from my grief, I don't think I had fully thought things through either. I found my place, though, and now I realize I am dependent on the hum of the ship to get to sleep just as I can't imagine doing anything else. I can just hear my biological mom chastising me for complaining about being out in the fresh air even if it is freezing. She used to tell me how much she fantasized about life outside prison walls.

I wish the two of you were here with me now. You could help me remember how you got through to me when I was so traumatized and angry, I could barely stand to be in my own skin, let alone your home. I'd actually settle to see some anger now in these kids I'm supposed to reassure. Worse than that, one little girl is barely talking at all. I'm not going to give up, just as you never gave up on me, it's made me appreciate just how patient and understanding you were. I can only hope I can be half the woman you are... I know, I know, it's well past my bedtime.

Love you as wide as the sky.