Son of My Heart
Disclaimer: It's all Uncle George's sandpit. I am making no money from these fics; they are solely for my pleasure and that of anyone who wants to read them. All characters copyright Lucasfilm.
Usually I have to wake you, but this morning you're up before Owen and me—not only up, but dressed and in the kitchen pulling out my biscuit drawer. You turn a bright face on me as I stumble sleepily into the kitchen.
"What are you doing up so early, Luke?"
You mumble something in which I make out the words "new droids" and "South ridge".
"It's good to see you so eager to work, my dear."
You flush at the compliment and look at the floor guiltily. Either you're still feeling bad about last night's argument and want to make amends, or you've got yourself in more trouble that I don't yet know about. Probably it's more trouble, because arguments happen pretty regularly now. Owen's in the wrong, I know it—how many years now has he said "just one more season"?
You can't stay here for ever, much as I wish you would. Find a nice girl, settle down and take over the farm when Owen and I are gone—that narrow life would never satisfy you. You're a dreamer, flying through the stars where Owen and I have our feet planted firmly on the sand. But I always knew I wouldn't have you for ever, that you were in a sense loaned to me. And you filled my empty arms and heart, and I loved you.
Padmé was crying as she left you, looking back over her shoulder as she walked to her ship. How she had the strength to do it, and not run back and tear you out of my arms, I'll never know. I couldn't have done it.
And so she entrusted you to me, to love and care for as best I could. Now you are all but grown, ready to fly the nest. It's with an ache at my heart that I fill you a flask of blue milk—for who knows how many more times I'll do this for you?
I watch you as you walk to the door, where I see your speeder waiting. The shiny new protocol droid is sitting in the seat—much like old Threepio, if Threepio had had gold plating instead of rusty steel.
"See you later," you say, paused for a moment in the doorway with the suns rising behind you. Suddenly, you turn back and kiss me smartly on the cheek. I smile at the boyish caress and smooth your hair. You say awkwardly, "I love you, Aunt Beru."
I'm surprised at that; with typical Tatooine reserve, we rarely say these things, no matter how much we may feel them.
"I love you too, Luke," I reply. Oh, how I love you, my beautiful boy, son of my heart, my borrowed child!
You're gone now, speeding off into the sunsrise, far too fast as usual. And I turn away and begin to prepare breakfast, as the new day breaks.
Disclaimer: It's all Uncle George's sandpit. I am making no money from these fics; they are solely for my pleasure and that of anyone who wants to read them. All characters copyright Lucasfilm.
Usually I have to wake you, but this morning you're up before Owen and me—not only up, but dressed and in the kitchen pulling out my biscuit drawer. You turn a bright face on me as I stumble sleepily into the kitchen.
"What are you doing up so early, Luke?"
You mumble something in which I make out the words "new droids" and "South ridge".
"It's good to see you so eager to work, my dear."
You flush at the compliment and look at the floor guiltily. Either you're still feeling bad about last night's argument and want to make amends, or you've got yourself in more trouble that I don't yet know about. Probably it's more trouble, because arguments happen pretty regularly now. Owen's in the wrong, I know it—how many years now has he said "just one more season"?
You can't stay here for ever, much as I wish you would. Find a nice girl, settle down and take over the farm when Owen and I are gone—that narrow life would never satisfy you. You're a dreamer, flying through the stars where Owen and I have our feet planted firmly on the sand. But I always knew I wouldn't have you for ever, that you were in a sense loaned to me. And you filled my empty arms and heart, and I loved you.
Padmé was crying as she left you, looking back over her shoulder as she walked to her ship. How she had the strength to do it, and not run back and tear you out of my arms, I'll never know. I couldn't have done it.
And so she entrusted you to me, to love and care for as best I could. Now you are all but grown, ready to fly the nest. It's with an ache at my heart that I fill you a flask of blue milk—for who knows how many more times I'll do this for you?
I watch you as you walk to the door, where I see your speeder waiting. The shiny new protocol droid is sitting in the seat—much like old Threepio, if Threepio had had gold plating instead of rusty steel.
"See you later," you say, paused for a moment in the doorway with the suns rising behind you. Suddenly, you turn back and kiss me smartly on the cheek. I smile at the boyish caress and smooth your hair. You say awkwardly, "I love you, Aunt Beru."
I'm surprised at that; with typical Tatooine reserve, we rarely say these things, no matter how much we may feel them.
"I love you too, Luke," I reply. Oh, how I love you, my beautiful boy, son of my heart, my borrowed child!
You're gone now, speeding off into the sunsrise, far too fast as usual. And I turn away and begin to prepare breakfast, as the new day breaks.