![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Chag urim sameach
Dec. 5th, 2020 02:10 pmAnother year.
Even when you record the exact stardate for every log you make, there's something about the impersonal, cold numbers that still makes time blend together. Without the changing of seasons, that smell of drying corn and frost on the air, there's little to mark the passage of time in a way that really sinks into your bones and tells you that today is any different from yesterday.
That's why it's all the more important to seize those little moments as they come along, ways to make the day feel more special.
It's not the first time that Jim has smuggled his boyfriend onto the Enterprise, not by a long shot. By now he knows the precautions well, locking the door and making sure his schedule is cleared for the evening. Zunar, now fully grown and fluffy as ever, lies draped across the neatly-made bed while the kneazle watches his human at work finishing up the last few tasks at his desk. The rest of his quarters are softly lit, the low table in the open area laid out with covered trays, a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice with a pair of glasses, and an unlit menorah. Outside the small window above his bed, the stars shine through the black as they always have, wrapped in the gentle blue glow of low warp.
Even when you record the exact stardate for every log you make, there's something about the impersonal, cold numbers that still makes time blend together. Without the changing of seasons, that smell of drying corn and frost on the air, there's little to mark the passage of time in a way that really sinks into your bones and tells you that today is any different from yesterday.
That's why it's all the more important to seize those little moments as they come along, ways to make the day feel more special.
It's not the first time that Jim has smuggled his boyfriend onto the Enterprise, not by a long shot. By now he knows the precautions well, locking the door and making sure his schedule is cleared for the evening. Zunar, now fully grown and fluffy as ever, lies draped across the neatly-made bed while the kneazle watches his human at work finishing up the last few tasks at his desk. The rest of his quarters are softly lit, the low table in the open area laid out with covered trays, a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice with a pair of glasses, and an unlit menorah. Outside the small window above his bed, the stars shine through the black as they always have, wrapped in the gentle blue glow of low warp.