His mommy is here to see him.
He knows that she's his mommy, because the lady with the silver hair told him so. And she feels right, nice and warm and comfortable, and he likes her, though he doesn't know why. She just feels right.
But she feels tired, too, inside; all tired and sad. He doesn't like it. He doesn't want this lady - his mommy - to be sad, because she's nice and warm and brings him toys. Like the toy X-wing she brought him last time, with the blue droid in it, and the cuddly bantha she has with her today. The toys are nice and he likes them and that's also how he knows she's his mommy.
He doesn't know why she feels tired and sad. He can see a smile on her face and everyone says that when someone is smiling, that means they're happy. He's not really sure what that means, though, because whenever people are smiling and say they're happy, he can still feel the tiredness and sadness inside them, where their hearts are. It's like that with the silver-haired lady, and her man, and the older children. But especially with his mommy, whom he sees so little but feels so much.
She tells him about his daddy, who he hasn't seen in so long. He doesn't really remember his daddy, not what he looks like anyway, but he can feel him, even though he's so far away. He feels strong and warm, but tired and sad, too. Maybe that's because of what his mommy is telling him about.
She's talking about his daddy again, how he's fighting in a war, and how she's fighting too, and so are his cousins and aunt and uncle and everybody. He doesn't know what a war is, except that it makes the outside feel bad and nasty, and makes his mommy and daddy tired and sad and never see him. His mommy is even more sad about this, and he doesn't like that. It's like it's him making her sad, because she hardly ever sees him, and he doesn't like to make people feel sad.
He makes people sad a lot, especially since the big explosion almost two years ago. He can't remember it very well, except that he could feel lots of light and burning and power, and then it was really really strong, and then it exploded and disappeared. He couldn't see it or hear it, but he could feel it, like it was a star exploding, and it hurt him and made him cry.
It made lots of people cry, like the man and lady who were with him, and his mommy and daddy who were away, and his cousins, and everyone he could feel. And now, whenever people look at him, they get sad in their hearts, and he doesn't like it. It's because of the star exploding before, and he tries to tell them that he's not going to explode like that, but he can't talk like the older kids enough to tell them.
He makes people sad, but he doesn't know how to make them happy again. They do the smiling thing when he tries, but he can still feel the sadness, and it makes him sad, too. And now his mommy is sad again, tired and sad, and he doesn't like it. He wants to make her happy, and he wishes and wishes that he could.
He climbs down from his seat and stumbles over to his mommy. She smiles at him again and reaches her arms out to pick him up, and he lets her, trying to think that maybe this is a different smile, maybe she's happy. But then he feels again, before he can help it, and the tiredness and sadness is still there. He hugs her, wraps his short arms around her neck, trying to make himself feel happy so he can give the happiness to her.
And he can feel it inside himself, like a little nightlight, happiness in his heart. Because he's with his mommy and he's warm and he's safe and he's happy. Why can't she be happy too? Maybe he should ask her, try to tell her to be happy. But words are so hard, and he wishes he could talk just like the older kids, but he can't really.
"Mommy?" he manages, and he likes her smile. This is a different smile, a happy smile, but she still doesn't feel happy. Happy on the outside but not on the inside, and it's the inside that counts the most. The silver-haired lady says that all the time, whenever the older kids think they're too small or not strong enough. It's the inside that counts the most. You have to be happy on the inside, for yourself, not just the outside for people to see.
"I love you, Ben," his mommy tells him, hugging him tighter. He smiles, even though she can't see him, because her words make him feel good. He doesn't really know what they mean, not really, but they make him feel good and nice and warm and happy.
Maybe that's how it works for everyone. Maybe it's just three words you need to say, to make someone happy. He can say three words, can't he? He can say Mommy, and Daddy, and bantha and X-wing. He can say other words, too, even though people don't always understand them, so he can say these three words, can't he? And make his mommy understand? And make her happy?
"Mommy," he says again, looking up at her smiling face, at the tears he can't quite see in her dark green eyes. "I luff yoo."
She smiles again, wider and wider, and he can feel inside her. It's bright and warm, so much warmer, and so much brighter. It's like when the big lights go on in the morning, and hurt his eyes because they're so bright, but this is something he can feel. The lights get rid of the shadow and the darkness and the monsters for another day, and that's what he can feel just now; the tiredness and sadness going away from his mommy's heart, just for another day, just until someone turns the happiness-light off again.
He doesn't want anyone to ever turn the happiness-light off. He likes it too much. He wants it to stay on, forever and ever, and he knew that if he could go with his mommy all the time, it would stay on. But he knows he can't, too; she has to go back to the bad and nasty things outside, back to his strong daddy, fighting the dark things he can't feel.
"I luff yoo, Mommy," he says again. Maybe that'll make it last two days.
Her eyes are shining, and now he can really see the tears, and he wonders why. Just like smiles are for happiness, tears are for sadness. The silver-haired lady told him so. But his mommy is crying now, even though he can feel the happiness inside her, and it confuses him. He reaches up a hand, to try and get rid of the tears running down her face - maybe he can stop them all, before they make the happiness go away. "No cwy, Mommy! Happy."
"I am happy, Ben. I love you," she says again, and again he can feel the happiness, nice and warm inside of him.
"Happy Mommy," he says, and he hugs her tight, trying to lock the happiness inside her and the tiredness and sadness outside. He hugs her until the warmth makes him sleepy, happy and sleepy, and he can't see or hear anything anymore, but he can still feel the bright happiness. It shines on through his dreams, and even though he knows that she'll be gone when he wakes up, he knows that she's happy, too, and it makes him even happier.
Maybe now that his mommy is happy again, the bad, nasty, dark things will go away, and his daddy won't have to fight, and he can go home. He doesn't know where home is, but it's somewhere that's always happy and warm, without the darkness and coldness he feels outside, and it's wherever he and his mommy and daddy can be together.
When the darkness goes away, he and his mommy and daddy can be together forever, and everything will always be happy. That's what he knows, and that's what he feels, and that's what he dreams for the rest of the night.
