The End of the Beginning
For Joanne
A sheet of lighting lit up the sky for a brief moment, throwing into relief the familiar shape of the barn and silo. The smell of a storm was in the air, as it had been for some days, teasing the parched Iowa landscape with the unfulfilled promise of a cleansing rain. Jim Kirk knew it would not rain. He knew with the complete certainty of a seventeen-year-old boy. He knew without reflection, without conscious thought. He knew just as he knew how to sneak down the stairs in the dark without waking his mother. He knew the way he knew how long to the minute he could stay out past curfew before he got one of those lectures about responsibility and respect from his mother. At seventeen, on his family's farm, he thought that he knew everything that had ever happened here, and everything that ever would.
This was his last night at home. Tomorrow he would board the shuttle for San Francisco to begin the journey that he had prepared for, worked for, yearned for, these last four years. Tomorrow he would no longer just be Jim Kirk, high school student, basketball player, son, brother. Tomorrow he would be James T. Kirk, Starfleet cadet. Tomorrow he would begin the rest of his life. He would begin a life where every day could bring the possibility of a new adventure, a new challenge. He knew that home no longer offered him anything different or unexpected. He was absolutely certain that his new life held those possibilities for him now.
As he sat on the grass under the broad Iowa night sky, he reflected that this would be hard for his mother. He was the last Kirk to leave her. His brother Sam had gone years ago, and had really never come back. School, then work had taken Sam away from the farm, and even when he returned for vacation, he was never really there. Sam had felt the pull of the outside world and had answered it unconditionally.
Sam and Jim had not been close. Not for years. There were moments when Jim felt a connection, when Sam had reached out to him, but those moments were mostly erased by time and distance. Jim loved his older brother, but in an almost abstract way. He reflected that Sam probably felt the same way too. He believed that Sam loved the idea of having a brother more that the reality of Jim, the person. He could not blame him. After Tarsus it had been difficult for Jim to let anyone get close. The brutality that he had witnessed had shut him down emotionally and physically. It had made him old before his time, and had driven him to take this path. He measured his life before Tarsus and after Tarsus. He had spent the last four years preparing to join Starfleet; to get out there and protect innocent thirteen-year-olds from butchers like Kodos. This was not something he had told a living soul, but it was what propelled him to the stars.
After Sam went off to school it had been an adjustment for his mother, but at least Jim had still been there. And, for a brief time after Sam left, their father had come home. But the call of the stars had been too strong, and finally Jim's father had gone away again. It seemed that all the Kirk men left eventually.
His father was out there now. Doing what he loved. Right after Jim's acceptance to the Academy, his father had written him. "Sorry I couldn't be there, son. We're so proud of you. We know you'll do well..." Jim hoped that his father was proud of him. He really didn't know. He didn't know much about what his father thought, or how he felt about his son. They'd spent very little time together. George Kirk had been in space during most of Jim's life. His father had not been there after Tarsus. He had not been there when Jim had fallen out of a tree and broken his leg, or when Jim's team won the state basketball championship. He had not even been there last month at graduation.
They might have spent little time together, but George Kirk did teach his son a lesson. Perhaps it was not a lesson he had intended his son to learn. He showed Jim that he had to follow his own path whatever the cost to himself and to those he loved. And, he also taught him that it was a bad idea to leave people behind. Jim was determined to follow his path to the stars, but he had also made up his mind that he would never leave behind a family as he pursued his life's ambition. He would sail the stars alone, protecting the powerless. Jim smiled a little at that last thought. It sounded awfully trite, even to his seventeen-year-old ears.
"What's making you smile, Jim?" He hadn't heard his mother come out of the house. "You look so happy. Are you thinking about tomorrow?" she asked as she sat down on the grass beside him.
For a moment Jim wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to hurt his mother by telling her how eager he was to leave, to get on with it. But, they had always been honest with one another.
"I was thinking about tomorrow, Mom. I was thinking about starting to live the life I've been wanting for years. I was also thinking about you. I'll miss you."
Jim's mother looked up at the stars. "You know Jim, I've always known that you and your brother would leave. It's what most parents want for a child, to see you out in the world, making your own way. This is the life I chose for myself, and I'm happy with it. I have my work and my friends. I have the farm. I wouldn't change any of it. But, this isn't your choice, or Sam's or your fathers. Of course I'll miss you too, but I know that you have to go. I know that and I accept it."
Jim leaned towards his mother and gently put his arm around her shoulder. She reached up to brush back that unruly lock of blond hair that would never stay off his forehead. He could feel her warmth, could sense her love for him, and he felt that unnamed comfort that only a parent could provide. He felt cherished and cared for. For a brief moment he wanted to stay on the farm. To stay where it was familiar and safe. But the moment vanished.
He kissed his mother's soft, sweet cheek. "You've always made everything possible for me, Mom. I love you very much for letting me have my dream."
Winona Kirk looked at her young son. She thought about how truly extraordinary he was. As an infant, he would look at her with those intelligent hazel eyes, and she felt sure that he knew everything there was to know in the world. She would smile at him and he would smile back, and for that moment the bond between them would be something tangible, something that she could touch. This was a child who was capable of touching others in a way that was truly unique. It was a gift that he would share with the world, a gift that would make him stand out among equals. She knew in her bones that he was destined for a special life. She felt the fierce pride of a parent for the magnificent young creature that she and her husband had produced.
Winona had adored him from the moment of his birth. She had watched him grow, and she had watched him survive. For a while she thought that he might not survive Tarsus. She had been beside him as he walled himself off from anything or anyone that might touch him. She had been there for him as he slowly found his way back to wholeness. She stood with him as he endured the cruel lesson of Tarsus and learned the direction of his life.
As she watched him turn into the person who sat beside her now, she had always known that she would have to let him go. She understood that her husband had to follow his dream. She had watched as her oldest son made his own way, and she had prepared herself to let Jim go too. It would not be easy, but it was what Jim wanted, and finally it was what she wanted for him. She knew that he would be the greatest of the Kirk men. He had seemed foreordained for greatness from his first breath. Tomorrow she would watch him go off to begin to find that greatness.
Jim looked at his mother and wondered what she was thinking. She was a private woman who did not share her thoughts freely or easily. He had inherited that trait from her.
"You better head in and finish your packing, Jim." Winona said softly, "It feels like it's finally going to rain. We sure could use it."
"It's never going to rain, Mom. Nothing ever happens here when it should." He looked up at the night sky, as if searching for some sign." But you're right, I do need to finish packing."
Jim rose to his feet. As he turned towards the house a drop of rain splashed on his head. He looked up as another drop landed on his shoulder. And another. The drops turned into a torrent as an Iowa summer downpour began.
"How'd you manage that one, Mom?" he asked.
"Mom's can do anything, Jim. Haven't you figured that out yet?"
He pulled his mother up into a hug, the two of them laughing with delight, and they turned and ran towards the farmhouse.
Before they entered the house Winona Kirk stopped her son and together they stood in the teaming rain. She stooped down, picked up a small, round stone, and handed it to her son. She wrapped her hand around his tightly as he held the muddy pebble. She had to shout to be heard over the din of the rainstorm. "Jim, I want you to know that no matter how far away you are, this will always be your home, and I will always love you. I want you to take this stone with you so that you will always carry a piece of home with you. And Jim, remember that nothing is absolutely certain in this life. Don't assume you always know what will happen. Sometimes even the things you know best can surprise you."
Jim Kirk was never sure as he thought about that night, and he thought about it often, whether all the moisture on his face was from the rain. What he did know with absolute certainty was that no matter what happened, he tried to keep himself open to new experiences, new surprises. And, whenever he looked at that ordinary Iowa stone he felt loved and safe. Just as his mother would have wanted.
The End.