I’ll admit I’m Star Wars illiterate. I remember the first movie in the theatre when I was about seven (Jeb’s age now) and I could keep the main characters straight: Luke Skywalker, Princess Lea, Darth Vader. I followed Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi but then my attention turned towards things more earthly.
Jeb’s current focus is the two-for-one-dream-come-true combo of Legos and Star Wars. Not only can he build intricate models of starships, these Lego sets come with little figures representing specific Star Wars characters. Jeb and his friends now spend time trading “Lego Guys.”
So much for The Dudes (the subject of a past post). It appears Jeb has launched beyond the earth plane, swapping the circa 1950’s “Indians” and soldiers for beings of more galactic origins.
I inquire. “They are both ‘Fetts’. Does that mean they are related?”
“Yeah. Jango Fett is Boba Fett’s dad.”
I reach for a figure. “Is this Jango Fett?”
“No!” he sounds incredulous. “That’s Boba Fett.”
“Do you have Jango Fett?”
“No. He’s very rare.”
“So are the Fetts on the Dark Side?”
“What do you like about them?”
“They have powers and can do things that the Jedis can’t do. And they have jet packs.”
From what I can gather, Jeb has seen Star Wars movies with his dad and information about these cosmic lineages are also shared among the boys on the playground. He and I have never watched a Star Wars movie. At this point, I have given up the ideal protection bubble I would like to have around him, shielding him from all things weapon-related. Tiny Lego figures in sets for six-year olds, hold miniature guns. Ugh!
Jeb finishes his breakfast and moves to clear his dishes. I’m making the bed. Morning time is coming on outside and the birds sing with the roosters.
Jeb hums a favorite tune at the sink. It’s the theme in Star Wars, often used as the camera pans from space and zooms into the ship. It’s that dramatic orchestration that falls heavy with the black footsteps of Darth Vader: “dah, dah, dah-dah, dah-dah-dah, dah, dah, dah”.
Jeb gives the dark and foreboding tune a new twist, adding words to the rhythm.
“I-I-I-I love my ma-ma-mom-y!”
I can tell he’s in that in between world. Not even fully conscious that he’s singing, just rinsing dishes and singing low to himself. He’s in the land between earth and space. He lives in that middle realm: talking prowess with the boys and still cuddling at home with mom. It’s a precious, tender balance. I brace for the day the scales will eventually tip and he’ll propel out into orbit forever.
For now, I’ll take the Dark Side’s theme song and smile that some love has slipped between the notes.