My children are safe.

Four simple words, perhaps, but they help me to
cling to reality rather than allowing the fabric of my
life to completely unravel like a skein of loose yarn.
My children are safe.

I hold that awareness fast in my grip, acknowledge
it as the only thing that keeps me alive on this cold,
wet planet, where the sun rarely shines. That simple
fact, the knowledge that my son and daughter have a
chance at living, at contributing to the universe, no
matter how much it may rip at my heart with every
passing moment. The knowledge that it is my absence
that keeps them from harm. The assurance that they
are being raised by loving caretakers, somewhere that
Anakin cannot find them, somewhere he would never
even think to look.

I have to bite my lip, as I always do, at the thought of
Anakin. Even after all these years the tears threaten my
eyes, and I blink them back with a vengeance. How had
I allowed myself to be so foolish? So very young? I know,
with a coldness in my heart, that the universe will suffer for
my selfish, love struck folly.

Memories often overtake me when I least expect them,
visceral memories, revisitations of his body against mine,
his whispered words of passion and adoration in the
darkness. I tell myself that I did not imagine those things,
that he did love me, that he was, at one time, a person
capable of caring and tenderness. If I do not
believe this, as I look down at my now wrinkling hands,
I will go mad.

The few people in seclusion with me who know who I
truly am tell me not to blame myself. They assure me
that I did no wrong, and that I made every effort to do
what was best in a horrific situation. They appoint me
the victim. I appreciate their solicitousness. It is a
small comfort, though, when my arms are empty. Being
on the side of the light doesn’t keep you warm at night,
doesn’t look up at you with wide, innocent eyes and call
you Mother.

I wanted to stay with Leia, wanted it with a desperation
born of knowing that she was all I had left once I had
entrusted Luke to Obi-Wan’s care. I deluded myself, for
a short time, that it would only be the son we would need
to keep safe, the boy cast in Anakin’s image. But in this, as in
so many things, I was wrong. Leaving her was possibly
the hardest thing I have ever done, since she actually
had a chance to know me as her mother, had listened to
my lullabies, had wrapped her arms around my waist and
fallen asleep in my arms.

I see her beautiful, sad face every night in my dreams.

Some see me as a victim; others as a traitor. I am the first
to admit that I have made mistakes, at a terrible cost. And I
will be paying for them for the rest of my days.

I only hope my children will not.

end.