ext_15150 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
malabud.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2006-03-25 12:30 pm
malabud.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2006-03-25 12:30 pm
Entry tags:
The Prodigal Son by geo3 (G)
Fandom: STAR WARS PT
Pairing: Gen
Length: 6,500 words
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: geo3's Fanfiction.net Profile
Why this must be read:
We see Anakin Skywalker through the eyes of his mother in this fic. She sees and understands him more clearly than anyone. She sees his virtues and strengths and his flaws and weaknesses, and loves him in her gentle way. When he lived with her, her life revolved around him. When he left, she coped, but something was always missing. When he came back and she saw him as a man, her joy was full and her life was complete.
This quiet, contemplative fic is a delight to read. It is not necessarily slow, but it does not have the action often associated with the Galaxy Far, Far Away. The reader empathizes with Shmi and begins to see Anakin as she does. And though the fic ends on a somewhat bittersweet note, there is a sense of satisfaction, of completeness, for both Shmi and the reader. Anakin parts from his mother and goes on to his fate, but the reader gets the sense she will be waiting for him when the time comes.
The story has few characters, but those that it does have -- Shmi, Anakin, and Qui-Gon -- are always in character. Their voices ring completely true, and this fic is as canon compliant as it is possible to be. Highly recommended.
* * *
For Shmi Skywalker, the best time of every day was the early evening.
This was her 'breathing out' time, the time when the long, slow inhalation of the day – head up, shoulders tense, eyes wary – finally could be released. Back in the shelter of her home, she could let go of the outward gesture of the expanding breath, at last allowing her body and spirit to sink softly into her secret, patient center. There, in her heart, she opened a space. She cradled this space inside of herself while she washed and changed her clothing and became the person she really was. She held this heart space open while she carefully prepared the evening's meal. She breathed out until the world outside contracted and disappeared. She created a refuge. And she waited.
The best part of the best part of every day was the time when the peace she'd made was shattered by the explosion of energy that came in through her door every evening and made its way straight for her. Knees and feet scrabbled in her lap so that he could reach her neck. Small, grubby arms circled it; they clutched her briefly. Too briefly, sometimes. Now that he was older it was rare that she got more than a cursory kiss.
He flowed into the space she had made for him. Filled it. She could feel him settle down a little and begin to exhale.
"Hi, Mom!"
Every day in the best part of the best part of the day, she received the same greeting. And every day she answered him in the same way, so that each day had its rhythm and its order.
"I'm so happy to see you, Ani. Come tell me about your day."
The cycle was complete. He had gone out, and he had returned. He was her heart, she was his home.
After that, Shmi rarely had to say much of anything for a long time, because his day, like all of Anakin's days, would have been crammed full of things that had interested and engaged him. She had only to take him by the shoulders and push him gently toward the washbasin while he told her about bargains and trades, star pilots and ships. She served their simple evening meal while he talked about friends and foes, struggles and schemes. After their meal the flow of chatter would end, and he would leave her to go work on his latest obsession, whatever it might be.
The Prodigal Son
Pairing: Gen
Length: 6,500 words
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: geo3's Fanfiction.net Profile
Why this must be read:
We see Anakin Skywalker through the eyes of his mother in this fic. She sees and understands him more clearly than anyone. She sees his virtues and strengths and his flaws and weaknesses, and loves him in her gentle way. When he lived with her, her life revolved around him. When he left, she coped, but something was always missing. When he came back and she saw him as a man, her joy was full and her life was complete.
This quiet, contemplative fic is a delight to read. It is not necessarily slow, but it does not have the action often associated with the Galaxy Far, Far Away. The reader empathizes with Shmi and begins to see Anakin as she does. And though the fic ends on a somewhat bittersweet note, there is a sense of satisfaction, of completeness, for both Shmi and the reader. Anakin parts from his mother and goes on to his fate, but the reader gets the sense she will be waiting for him when the time comes.
The story has few characters, but those that it does have -- Shmi, Anakin, and Qui-Gon -- are always in character. Their voices ring completely true, and this fic is as canon compliant as it is possible to be. Highly recommended.
* * *
For Shmi Skywalker, the best time of every day was the early evening.
This was her 'breathing out' time, the time when the long, slow inhalation of the day – head up, shoulders tense, eyes wary – finally could be released. Back in the shelter of her home, she could let go of the outward gesture of the expanding breath, at last allowing her body and spirit to sink softly into her secret, patient center. There, in her heart, she opened a space. She cradled this space inside of herself while she washed and changed her clothing and became the person she really was. She held this heart space open while she carefully prepared the evening's meal. She breathed out until the world outside contracted and disappeared. She created a refuge. And she waited.
The best part of the best part of every day was the time when the peace she'd made was shattered by the explosion of energy that came in through her door every evening and made its way straight for her. Knees and feet scrabbled in her lap so that he could reach her neck. Small, grubby arms circled it; they clutched her briefly. Too briefly, sometimes. Now that he was older it was rare that she got more than a cursory kiss.
He flowed into the space she had made for him. Filled it. She could feel him settle down a little and begin to exhale.
"Hi, Mom!"
Every day in the best part of the best part of the day, she received the same greeting. And every day she answered him in the same way, so that each day had its rhythm and its order.
"I'm so happy to see you, Ani. Come tell me about your day."
The cycle was complete. He had gone out, and he had returned. He was her heart, she was his home.
After that, Shmi rarely had to say much of anything for a long time, because his day, like all of Anakin's days, would have been crammed full of things that had interested and engaged him. She had only to take him by the shoulders and push him gently toward the washbasin while he told her about bargains and trades, star pilots and ships. She served their simple evening meal while he talked about friends and foes, struggles and schemes. After their meal the flow of chatter would end, and he would leave her to go work on his latest obsession, whatever it might be.
The Prodigal Son