Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Leah Hart (Nurse Practitioner/Counseling) in Quarters: Leah Hart

Posted by Ensign Chandel (Science) in Quarters: Leah Hart

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Leah Hart (Nurse Practitioner/Counseling) in Quarters: Leah Hart
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻

(snip)

“Ahh, grandmothers. Do you get along with yours?”
Chandel leaned back in her chair, eyes distant, letting her mind drift far from the hum of starship corridors. She thought of her bayou grand-mère, the woman who had shaped her earliest sense of home. In her mind, the metallic walls of the ship faded, replaced by the warm, weathered wood of a cabin perched on stilts above the slow-moving waters of the Louisiana bayou.

The cabin had always felt alive. Spanish moss hung from the rafters just outside, swaying with the whisper of cicadas and frogs, while the screened porch gave a wide view of the glistening black water and the cypress knees jutting like guardians from the swamp. Inside, every corner held a touch of Cajun French heritage.

Her grand-mère’s walls were lined with woven baskets, cast-iron skillets polished black from decades of gumbo and jambalaya, and hand-stitched quilts patterned with fleur-de-lis and bayou lilies. A crucifix carved from driftwood hung above the door, flanked by tiny bottles of homemade spices and herbs sealed with wax, their scents mingling with the constant aroma of chicory coffee.

The furniture was sturdy but worn, heavy wood carved long ago, softened with embroidered cushions of bright reds and yellows. A rocking chair creaked by the hearth, draped with a crocheted shawl that smelled faintly of lavender and smoke. The old radio on the shelf still crackled out Cajun waltzes when tuned just right, filling the small home with the sound of accordions and fiddles.

Her grand-mère herself would sit at the kitchen table—always covered with a lace cloth—rolling out dough for beignets or stirring a pot while humming in French. The windows were dressed with lace curtains, letting in golden shafts of sunlight that caught the dust and made the air shimmer.

For Chandel, that cabin was more than wood and bayou air—it was sanctuary, memory, and roots. Even across the stars, she carried it with her, tucked away in thought like a charm against the vast cold of space

Ensign Chandel Sci

Leah could tell Chandel was lost in memory and she simply sipped her wine and let her be for a moment.

“My abuela and I are very close,’ Leah said with a deep smile. “The story goes that I got my love of dancing from her. She’s a flamenco dancer and when I was three I was following her about trying to copy her movements,” she said, laughing.

Leah breathed in the memory of that love, that bond. “I think she’s the member of my family that understands me best. My family is… complicated, but with her everything is simple, pure.” She drank from her wine glass and pushed it to the side, pulling the beading tray towards her.

“What about you?”

~Leah Hart, NP

“Ah yes. My grand-mere are as close as you and your abuela. She raised me in the bayou. Her little cabin sat low beneath the shade of moss-hung cypress trees, with a porch that seemed to float over the slow, green water. The air always carried the scent of wet earth, wildflowers, and woodsmoke, and the sound of cicadas was like a constant lullaby.

She taught me how to paddle the pirogue through the narrow canals, how to set crab traps at dawn, and how to read the sky when storms would roll in from the gulf. Inside the cabin, the walls were decorated with handwoven baskets, faded quilts, and crucifixes, all reminders of her Cajun French roots. She spoke as much in French as in English, especially when telling me old stories about the spirits of the swamp, or when singing the soft lullabies that carried me to sleep.

Life with her was simple, but rich—every day filled with hard work, laughter, and the deep stillness of the bayou at dusk. To me, she was strength and comfort all at once, the heartbeat of that watery world.”

Ensign Chandel Sci

Leah smiled. “I love that- how deep your connection to her and her home is. I can understand it too. There is a sense of heritage in the simple things, the objects, the language. It gives us roots, even when we are out here travelling the stars.”

She gestured to her beads. “Did you bring something creative to do as well? If not, you are welcome to do some jewellery making as well. I can bring out more materials easily enough.”

~Leah Hart, NP

“Ah would you be willing to teach me? This is something I’ve never tried my hand at.” Chandel said her eyes lighting up with excitement. In her long life there were many things she’d learned and she was always interested in learning new things. It was what kept her life from getting boring. She had learned to live in the now.

Ensign Chandel Sci

Leah grinned. “Sure! I’ve love to teach you. What would you like to make? I’ll grab the supplies you’ll need for it.” She had never had anyone ask her to teach her how to make jewellery before. She’d made things for friends, sure, but this felt somehow more special.

~Leah Hart, NP

“Hmm, how bout a necklace like this?” Chandel said as she pulled a datapad out of her pocket and pulled up a picture. https://i.imgur.com/rwKHdx7.jpeg

Ensign Chandel Sci

Leah leaned in, studied the image and nodded. “The design is basic enough, but I won’t have the pendant you’re looking for. How about I teach you the basic technique and then you can make that one when you have the right pendant you’re wanting?”

~Leah Hart, NP

“Could we replicate it?” Chandel asked not know if it was better to have real pieces.

Ensign Chandel Sci