The lack of rain disturbs me.
It is not so much the endless sands of this dead planet or the sparse settlements; those demographics will only serve to mask our existence. It is not the fact that life will be hard here. No, my life has always been difficult; why change it now? No...it is the lack of rain. Rain means hope. It means hope of life; hope of renewal. And there is never a drop of rain here on Tatoonine.
It means a lack of hope....for me...for him.
The small bundle I hold squirms and I peel the rough material away from his face. I know he is hot, but the sun would bake him in a minute...without mercy. There is nothing I can do but try and keep the direct rays away from his delicate skin. He has Padme's skin...the skin of a water planet...fair and pale. His eyes are not yet done changing and they blink at me...looking like little chameleons. Their color is somewhere between sea blue and cornflower blue, I decide and attempt a smile at him.
But little Skywalker will have none of it. His little face screws up and I know that he is going to cry. The boy is strong in the living force...and he is sensitive to feelings. He can feel mine...I know it...very much like his father could. His father....
I lift my eyes and squint at the horizon. Luke succumbs to my willing peace into him and he settles. It keeps quiet around me...so I can hear the blowing sand...the symphony of my future life. I know the Lars homestead is near....just over the next near rise, I suspect. Even a Jedi can get lost in barren scenery such as this. And I am counting on that; it might be the only thing that keeps this little innocent safe from the evil that his father has become.
All that his father might have been...all that he was...swallowed in an evil as dark as night. His father...my apprentice....my ...friend.
I sigh and trudge on.
Why didn't I see this end? A Jedi sees the path...its beginning, its middle, its end. And yet...I saw nothing beyond my nose...not since the day I took Anakin as my Padawan...at the behest of my dead mentor.
Why didn't I understand?
My footsteps make sounds that seem to tell me of my path now. I didn't understand because I couldn't understand. I was the link in the destiny of many...of Qui-Gon's, of Padme's, of Anakin's...and as a link...I could only see the connections and not the whole chain of events.
I couldn't understand because I still ached with my childhood rejections. I still felt the pain of being sent to the Agricorps...of Qui-Gon's almost cold acceptance...of striving all my teen-aged life to obtain something...anything that was like praise. I still felt the sting of being brushed aside for the child I was asked to teach. I was still a child.
As a child...I wore my heart on my sleeve. I fed Anakin my indecision...my anger...my insecurity....I never gave it to the Force. I only passed it on.
Luke whimpers and I look down at him. This is what my emotions have wrought, Master...I say to Qui-Gon in the Force. I was a child...so much a child...and now that I see my mistakes...
I am a man.
Ahead of me I see the homestead. Owen stands near the door. He knows that I bring Luke...his nephew. He and Beru will raise him as their own. I have had it promised to me...and it was promised to Luke's mother. I do not fear leaving this small bundle there. He will be loved....by his foster parents, by his mother...by me.
I am a man, I think, lowering my head to watch my footfalls. I know that all that has occurred has done so according to a plan that I am not an engineer of...but rather only a pawn. All my pain...all my inability...all my inadequacy...was planned. But it is here...at this crossroads of my life...that I know what will happen is my choice. Do I let my past control me...or do I give myself over as an instrument of the future?
Beru smiles as I lower the bundle into her arms. She is a good steady woman...a good wife to Owen and will be an excellent mother to Luke...much like her mother-in-law. Owen smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder. He won't say thank you...there is nothing about which to express thanks. We are all on a road of doom...it is only which one of us will get to the destination before the others that remains.
I nod.
I glance down at Luke's sweet face. His hair is as blond as Anakin's was the day I met him. His eyes are as large as Padme's. He is strong. He will be the one to survive. When I left Padme with her son, I wondered at the pain in her eyes. At the tears that fell...at the swallows and the small breathless quality I heard in her voice. I wondered because I did not feel what she was experiencing. But I do now.
And, I assure you, the pain is acute and powerful.
Turning, I leave the hovel...the warm, well-kept hovel and exit into the unbearable light of day. With a grimace, I lift the hood and cover my face against the sand.
And moving out across the sand, I walk towards my hovel...hidden in the cliffs.
I choose this. This is my choice to be an instrument of the future.
It is not so much the endless sands of this dead planet or the sparse settlements; those demographics will only serve to mask our existence. It is not the fact that life will be hard here. No, my life has always been difficult; why change it now? No...it is the lack of rain. Rain means hope. It means hope of life; hope of renewal. And there is never a drop of rain here on Tatoonine.
It means a lack of hope....for me...for him.
The small bundle I hold squirms and I peel the rough material away from his face. I know he is hot, but the sun would bake him in a minute...without mercy. There is nothing I can do but try and keep the direct rays away from his delicate skin. He has Padme's skin...the skin of a water planet...fair and pale. His eyes are not yet done changing and they blink at me...looking like little chameleons. Their color is somewhere between sea blue and cornflower blue, I decide and attempt a smile at him.
But little Skywalker will have none of it. His little face screws up and I know that he is going to cry. The boy is strong in the living force...and he is sensitive to feelings. He can feel mine...I know it...very much like his father could. His father....
I lift my eyes and squint at the horizon. Luke succumbs to my willing peace into him and he settles. It keeps quiet around me...so I can hear the blowing sand...the symphony of my future life. I know the Lars homestead is near....just over the next near rise, I suspect. Even a Jedi can get lost in barren scenery such as this. And I am counting on that; it might be the only thing that keeps this little innocent safe from the evil that his father has become.
All that his father might have been...all that he was...swallowed in an evil as dark as night. His father...my apprentice....my ...friend.
I sigh and trudge on.
Why didn't I see this end? A Jedi sees the path...its beginning, its middle, its end. And yet...I saw nothing beyond my nose...not since the day I took Anakin as my Padawan...at the behest of my dead mentor.
Why didn't I understand?
My footsteps make sounds that seem to tell me of my path now. I didn't understand because I couldn't understand. I was the link in the destiny of many...of Qui-Gon's, of Padme's, of Anakin's...and as a link...I could only see the connections and not the whole chain of events.
I couldn't understand because I still ached with my childhood rejections. I still felt the pain of being sent to the Agricorps...of Qui-Gon's almost cold acceptance...of striving all my teen-aged life to obtain something...anything that was like praise. I still felt the sting of being brushed aside for the child I was asked to teach. I was still a child.
As a child...I wore my heart on my sleeve. I fed Anakin my indecision...my anger...my insecurity....I never gave it to the Force. I only passed it on.
Luke whimpers and I look down at him. This is what my emotions have wrought, Master...I say to Qui-Gon in the Force. I was a child...so much a child...and now that I see my mistakes...
I am a man.
Ahead of me I see the homestead. Owen stands near the door. He knows that I bring Luke...his nephew. He and Beru will raise him as their own. I have had it promised to me...and it was promised to Luke's mother. I do not fear leaving this small bundle there. He will be loved....by his foster parents, by his mother...by me.
I am a man, I think, lowering my head to watch my footfalls. I know that all that has occurred has done so according to a plan that I am not an engineer of...but rather only a pawn. All my pain...all my inability...all my inadequacy...was planned. But it is here...at this crossroads of my life...that I know what will happen is my choice. Do I let my past control me...or do I give myself over as an instrument of the future?
Beru smiles as I lower the bundle into her arms. She is a good steady woman...a good wife to Owen and will be an excellent mother to Luke...much like her mother-in-law. Owen smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder. He won't say thank you...there is nothing about which to express thanks. We are all on a road of doom...it is only which one of us will get to the destination before the others that remains.
I nod.
I glance down at Luke's sweet face. His hair is as blond as Anakin's was the day I met him. His eyes are as large as Padme's. He is strong. He will be the one to survive. When I left Padme with her son, I wondered at the pain in her eyes. At the tears that fell...at the swallows and the small breathless quality I heard in her voice. I wondered because I did not feel what she was experiencing. But I do now.
And, I assure you, the pain is acute and powerful.
Turning, I leave the hovel...the warm, well-kept hovel and exit into the unbearable light of day. With a grimace, I lift the hood and cover my face against the sand.
And moving out across the sand, I walk towards my hovel...hidden in the cliffs.
I choose this. This is my choice to be an instrument of the future.