Saga - PT A Year in Birthdays (Shmi/Cliegg Oneshot featuring Owen for OTP Challenge #25)

Title: A Year in Birthdays

Author: devilinthedetails

Characters: Shmi Skywalker; Cliegg Lars; Owen Lars; Threepio.

Genre: Romance; Drama; Family; Hurt/Comfort; Fluff.

Timeline: Set between TPM and AOTC during the first year of Shmi’s marriage to Cliegg.

Summary: A year of birthdays at the Lars homestead.

Author’s Note: Written as an unofficial entry for OTP Challenge #25-Challenge of Challenges. My randomly generated challenge was #3, Holiday Love, so I chose to focus on the love and fun of birthdays as well as some of the family drama and chaos that can come with them.

A Year in Birthdays

Almost anyone who wasn’t a Hutt–anyone who had to work, basically–awakened early on Tatooine. Rising before the twin suns could stain the sky the same cracked egg orange and yellow as the sand. Beginning their labor in the hope of completing the most intense portions of it before the suns climbed high in the sky. Before the heat index reached absolutely sweltering levels. Hotter than a robo-griddle. So hot a human would start to sweat, shedding precious moisture, within a minute of stepping outdoors beneath the blazing suns.

Even by Tatooine standards, Shmi was an early riser. Perhaps it was something genetic or a habit bred into her by slavery. Anakin, too, had been an early riser. She recalled that with a clenching like a fist in her chest. Remembering how he had rolled out of bed long before the dawn. Before he had to report to Watto’s store to sell and repair used parts.

Tinkering with his own projects that were his pride and joy. Sandy hair–a mixture of blonde and brown strands–bent over the mechanical pieces that so enraptured him. Twisting and turning with his tools until he had created his own functioning podracer in the communal courtyard outside their stack of slave hovels. Until he had almost finished building Threepio to assist her in her chores and keep her company while he worked in Watto’s shop. Until the Jedi had arrived on Tatooine, and Anakin had left–at her urging and with her blessing–to train as one of them in the mysterious ways of the Force.

She was a free woman herself now. Married with her full consent and without any coercion to the man who had freed her. The solid man beside her in bed who shifted and grunted as she rose from their pile of pillows and slipped out from beneath their blankets.

“Going out to pick some mushrooms from the vaporators?” he asked, eyes closed. An understandable question. Gathering mushrooms that had grown in the dampness produced by the vaporators while the night’s cool still clung to the Tatooine desert was part of a normal morning’s routine for her.

Today, however, wasn’t a normal morning. It was the morning of Owen’s birthday. The first birthday she would celebrate with him since she had married Cliegg. She was determined, therefore, to celebrate it in style. To prepare a special treat for him to enjoy at breakfast. A special treat that would require extra time in the kitchen for her to bake. A special treat that would mean sacrificing her usual morning custom of picking mushrooms from the vaporators.

“No.” Shmi leaned down. Pressed a kiss into her husband’s forehead. “I have something else planned this morning. A surprise.”

“A surprise,” Cliegg repeated. A steady person, he had a wary aversion to surprises. Though he tended to make an exception for surprises she made for him. Seemed to regard them as a spark she added to their shared life together. “For me?”

“Not for you.” Shmi gave Cliegg’s shoulder a gentle swat. A teasing gleam in her gaze that he wouldn’t be able to see with his eyes still shut. “For the birthday boy.”

“Ah.” There was an answering, teasing note in Cliegg’s tone. “We are only married for a couple of months, and already you set about spoiling my son.”

“Our son now.” Shmi grinned. Placed another kiss on her husband’s brow. “That’s why I spoil him.”

Cliegg emitted the deep-throated noise Shmi had come to understand in the months of their marriage indicated contentment. Her grin blossomed into a smile as she left their bedroom and made her way to the homestead’s kitchen, where she enlisted Threepio’s aid in baking the panna cakes she had planned for Owen’s birthday breakfast.

From the cooler, she pulled out the eggs and blue milk needed to create fluffy panna cakes as well as the carton of fresh zoochberries she had bought on her last trip into Mos Eisley. A carton she had kept carefully concealed behind the large bottle of blue milk so that it wouldn’t be discovered and plundered during her husband’s frequent foraging raids of the kitchen. Ensuring they were hidden until their moment of glory came on Owen’s birthday. When they could be added to the panna cake batter for a sweet crunch that burst on the tongue.

She set Threepio, who was eager as ever to help in any way possible, to mixing the eggs, blue milk, and zoochberries with flour, sugar, and salt, while she plugged in the robo-griller. Switched it on. Waited for it to reach scorching red heat.

While she waited, she heard Cliegg leave their bedroom. Step outside into the pre-dawn desert to begin the long list of morning chores that must be completed to guarantee the continued functioning of a successful moisture farm.

The robo-griller chimed. Alerting her that it had reached the right temperature for cooking panna cakes. She poured batter for the first panna cakes into the grill’s indents. Closed the grill. Two minutes later removed the cooked panna cakes from the griddle, dropped them onto a plate, and repeated the process for the next batch of panna cakes.

As this second set heated on the griddle, she assigned Threepio to warming carbosyrup in the tetrawave and placing bantha butter on the table. No panna cake breakfast worth the name existed without drizzles of decadent syrup and melting mounds of bantha butter. Anyone who had ever eaten a panna cake knew that.

That group encompassed a vast majority of the residents of Tatooine. Panna cakes being a traditional birthday dish on the world. Outsiders could and often did critique many aspects of the rough-and-tumble life on Tatooine, but even the most hostile off-worlders would have to concede that on Tatooine, they knew how to create a delicious batch of panna cakes to sink one’s teeth or equivalent appendage into.

The second set of panna cakes finished cooking. Scooping them onto another plate, she requested that Threepio fetch her husband for breakfast. She trusted that the smell of the panna cakes would be enough to awaken Owen, who could be surly if he did not emerge from his room of his own volition.

Compared to Shmi and Cliegg, Owen slept late. Not arising until after dawn. A source of mild, affectionate amusement to Shmi, and vexation to her husband, who only abstained from perpetually nagging Owen about this deficiency because Owen was so diligent in accomplishing his chores in the hours he was awake. Shmi had managed to convince Cliegg that it wasn’t worth arguing with Owen about sleeping late.

That this was a phase Owen would grow out of once he reached manhood. A milestone still years away as Owen still had much of the awkward transition of adolescence in his future. An awkward transition Shmi looked forward to witnessing because she could not see Anakin complete this journey from boy to man.

Shmi had just put three heaping plates of fluffy panna cakes on the table along with a pitcher of muja juice and cups when Cliegg entered the kitchen. Threepio in tow.

“Those smell delicious.” Cliegg whistled approval as he drank in the sight mountains of panna cakes Shmi had prepared.

Owen’s nose must have agreed with Cliegg’s olfactory assessment because he emerged from his bedroom. Joined them in the kitchen. Plopped heavily into a chair. Slathered his panna cakes with bantha butter before pouring an ample amount of syrup over them. All without offering a morning greeting.

“Happy Birthday!” Shmi exclaimed. Trying not to be deterred by Owen’s taciturn gruffness as he picked up his knife and fork.

Cut his panna cakes. Took a bite. Didn’t say anything.

Apparently irked by Owen’s silence, Cliegg demanded tersely, “Aren’t you going to thank your mother for cooking you panna cakes for your birthday?”

“She’s not my mother, Dad.” Owen scowled. Voicing at last the tense point of contention that had gone unspoken at the homestead in the months since Cliegg and Shmi had married. Before Cliegg and Shmi wed, Owen had seemed to like Shmi. Enjoying the meals they had eaten together in Mos Espa when Cliegg had visited her while she was still a slave to Watto. Laughing at her jokes. Sharing his own silly stories with her. Drawing laughter from her. Since she and Cliegg married, it felt as if that laughter had died. As if Owen felt threatened by Shmi. As if she were trying to steal from him the precious memory of his birth mother. “My mother’s dead.”

“Say thank you for the panna cakes!” Cliegg snapped. Throwing his fork down on his plate with a clatter.

“Why?” Owen retorted. Spitting a mouthful of panna cake into a napkin. Face flushed red as sunburn. “They aren’t even good panna cakes! They’re dry. Not fluffy like they should be. Not at all like my mother would have made them.”

“You don’t have to eat them then.” Cliegg pointed a shaking finger toward the door to Owen’s bedroom. “If you’re going to be an ungrateful brat, you can go to your room so the rest of us don’t have to put up with your bad attitude!”

Owen’s scowl deepend into a thunderous glower but he didn’t dare defy his father. He thrust his chair back from the table. Lurched to his feet. Stormed down the hall to his bedroom. Slammed the door shut after him as he retreated inside. Earning a harsh shout from Cliegg that if he did any damage to the door he’d have to be the one to fix it.

“Well, I never saw such insolence!” Threepio seemed even more affronted than Cliegg by Owen’s rudeness.

“Then you must have lived a very sheltered existence here on Tatooine.” Shmi’s lips quirked at the protocol droid’s eternal primness. She couldn’t fathom why Anakin had programmed Threepio with such an acute awareness of every breach of propriety unless it was to amuse her at the droid’s sheer uptightness.

“I should hope so!” Threepio still sounded scandalized. “If I were regularly exposed to the elements, sand would get in my gears and gadgets. Putting me in dire need of an oil bath.”

Shmi swallowed a sigh. Like Owen, Threepio had misinterpreted her meaning.

She massaged her throbbing temples. Thinking that this was not at all how she had wanted Owen’s birthday breakfast to transpire. That, despite her best efforts, the relationship between her and Owen had only deteriorated because of the panna cakes she had made in his honor. Her appetite gone, she pushed away her own platter of panna cakes.

“The panna cakes are a true treat, Shmi.” Cliegg’s hand stretched across the table to wrap around hers. Squeezing soothingly as his temper faded in the wake of his son’s tempestuous departure. “I’ll give Owen a stern talking-to once I’ve calmed down a bit. Make him apologize to you.”

“I–” Shmi took a deep breath before taking the plunge– “I would like to speak to Owen. I think we need to reach our own understanding, and if you force him to apologize to me after giving him a thorough tongue-lashing, he will only resent me more.”

“He deserves a tongue-lashing.” Cliegg shook his head. “Calling your panna cakes dry. Spitting them out into his napkin.”

“Sometimes what we deserve isn’t what we need.” Shmi had found her calm now. Rediscovered her equilibrium. Nothing could rattle her for long. She could survive anything with her dignity intact. “Owen needs compassion. The gentle, loving firmness of a mother.”

“You really are determined to be a mother to him?” Cliegg’s fingers stroked the top of her hand. Calloused but tender. “Even though he has been such a brat to you?”

“I will be a mother to him,” Shmi promised. Nodding as a lump swelled in her throat. “I will love and guide him as I did Anakin all the days of my life.”

“You are a good woman, Shmi.” Cliegg lifted her fingers to his lips for a kiss. Added with a loving question in his gaze, “And you are sure that you want to speak to Owen now?”

“I am.” Shmi met his eyes with her own brown ones, and the resolution he must have seen written there made acceptance fall over his face. “The situation will only worsen, not improve, the longer I put off speaking to him.”

Cliegg’s only reply to this was a grim grunt and an affirming pat on the shoulder as she rose. With Cliegg’s strength as a quiet companion, Shmi walked down the hallway to Owen’s room. Knocked on the door. Entered when Owen called through the door in a somewhat subdued tone that she could come in.

As she stepped inside, closing the door behind her for what she anticipated would be a very private and sensitive exchange, she noticed that Owen looked surprised to see her. Almost relieved. As if he had expected his father to deliver a blistering lecture. Ruining his birthday. Reducing him to tears.

“Owen,” she said softly. Longing to touch his cheek as she would have Anakin’s. “Your mother was a very special woman–”

“How would you know that?” Owen interrupted. Bristling. “You never met her.”

“I didn’t.” Shmi inclined her head in acknowledgement of this painful point. “I do know that she was your mother, and that she raised a wonderful son. I know too that your father loved her enough to marry her, and that he still talks about her. That he still remembers her. That he hasn’t forgotten her.”

“Some way he has of showing that.” Owen snorted. “Marrying you when she’s dead and gone forever.”

“Would you have him grieve your mother forever?” Shmi arched an eyebrow. “Never know love or joy again?”

Owen offered no answer to this. Tears starting to stream down his cheeks. Tears Shmi wished she could brush away.

“I am not trying to replace your mother,” Shmi went on gingerly, taking advantage of his quiet. “I can’t do that. Nobody can do that. Same as no one can replace my Anakin. But just because nobody can replace my Anakin doesn’t mean that I can’t accept you as a son and love you as one. Nor does it mean it’s an insult to Anakin if I do love and accept you as a son. Anakin would want me to find love and comfort in you. He wouldn’t want me mourning his loss forever.”

“I don’t want to forget my mother.” Owen swiped his tears away with the sleeve of his tan tunic.

“You don’t have to forget her. You can remember her. Honor her. Talk about her. Go on loving her forever.” Shmi smiled gently. A smile of love and sorrow. Of pain transcended by joy. “You can also honor her by loving other people. By opening your heart to them. By not keeping it locked away until it hardens like durasteel.”

Nothing could make up for their losses, but they could stake a claim like Tatooine’s first brave pioneers to what love and comfort they could find together, Shmi thought as Owen remarked abruptly, “Your panna cakes weren’t dry. I shouldn’t have lied and said they were. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Shmi prompted delicately when he trailed off.

“Nothing.” Owen shook his head. Cheeks burning like sunrise or a hot robo-griddle. “Dad says I shouldn’t make excuses for bad behavior. That there are never any good excuses for bad behavior.”

“There are no good excuses for bad behavior.” Shmi reached out to cup his chin. Felt a surge of indescribable peace–a sensation like coming home after wandering too long in the desert–overcome her when he didn’t jerk or cringe away from her. “However, there can be explanations for bad behavior. Explanations that we can understand. That we can empathize with.”

“My mom used to make me panna cakes on my birthday.” Owen gnawed at his lower lip. Probably drawing blood. “I suppose when I saw the panna cakes this morning, I remembered her and felt sad. Then, because I didn’t know what else to do with the sorrow, I got angry at the panna cakes and you for making them. I’m sorry for being a brat.”

“You weren’t being a brat.” Shmi tapped his chin. “You were just hurting. Sometimes people who are hurting lash out to hide their pain.”

“I’m sorry for lashing out.” Owen ducked his head. Obviously ashamed and abashed at his own prior conduct.

“I forgive you.” Shmi kissed his hair. Much as she would when Anakin apologized to her after any transgression. Absolving him as she would have Anakin. “You do not need to hide your pain from me, Owen. You can share it with me, and I will comfort you.”

“Thank you.” Owen gave a short, uncomfortable nod. Plainly uneasy at the prospect of confiding his emotions to her. Evidently having inherited his father’s reluctance to openly reveal his feelings.

“I didn’t realize the panna cakes would upset you so much.” Shmi laid another kiss in his hair. “I apologize. I won’t make them again.”

“They are good.” Owen shifted his weight from foot to foot. A clear sign of discomfiture. “I hope you do make them again. I’ll enjoy them if you do.”

“Then you can look forward to having them every birthday.” Shmi could feel herself glowing inside. Glad that he liked her panna cakes after all. That he would eat them when she made them. That he would allow himself to accept and return her love after all. That he wouldn’t close and harden his heart to her.

“Is Dad mad at me?” Owen asked. Nervousness in his tone.

“He was.” Shmi studied him with a faint twinkle in her eyes. “I managed to talk him out of his fury.”

“Thank you,” Owen said. The second time in two minutes that he had thanked her. She would never forget these moments. These thanks. She was certain of that. “It’s safe for me to emerge from my room then? To come out and finish my panna cakes?”

“Very safe.” Shmi laughed. Delighted beyond words that laughter had been restored to their relationship. “I will fend your father off with a wooden spoon while you eat your panna cakes if I have too.”

Owen laughed as well, and he was very warm to her the rest of that day. His birthday. The first birthday they celebrated as one family after Shmi and Cliegg were married.

The second birthday they shared in such a fashion was Cliegg’s two months later. Shmi had sewn Cliegg some new tunics to replace the ones he often grumbled were tattered. At breakfast, she presented the new tunics to him with a flourish, earning herself an appreciative, lingering kiss on the lips.

Owen, too, had a gift that he handed to his father at breakfast. A gift certificate for two to a Rodian restaurant that had recently opened in Mos Eisley.

“I can see to the chores while you and Mom go into Mos Eisley for lunch,” Owen told his father. He casually called her “Mom” now. As if he had done so all his life. It was a wonder she might never get used to. A wonder she would definitely never stop savoring. “If you head out after breakfast, you should be back before sunset.”

Before the Tusken Raiders were at their most threatening. Life on Tatooine was dictated as much by the attacking patterns of the Tusken Raiders as it was by the rhythms of dawn and dusk. The daily dance of the twin suns endlessly circling each other in the sky.

Cliegg and Shmi did indeed lead the homestead on the family speeder not long after breakfast.

Shmi ruffling Owen’s hair. Murmuring that he was such a good, considerate boy. Praise that made him blush to the roots of the hair she rifled through her fingers.

Cliegg clapping his son on the back. Gruffly ordering Owen not to get into too much trouble. His own way of saying that their son was a good boy. Shmi understood that. Suspected that Owen did as well. There was so little need for words in their family. Gestures and love communicated everything far better than mere words ever could.

Before Shmi climbed into the speeder, Owen whispered conspiritorialy in her ear, “Be sure to tell your server that it’s Dad’s birthday. Then they’ll give him a free dessert and have the entire restaurant sing in his honor.”

“Oh, he’ll love that fuss being made over him.” Shmi grinned crookedly. Voice dry as the sun-scorched sand.

“I know.” Owen smirked. “That’s why you must tell your server.”

Amused at the mischief of boys, Shmi waved him away as Cliegg turned on the speeder. It rose obligingly in the air and let Cliegg steer it off along the dusty road to Mos Eisley. A moment later, Owen was a fading speck in the distance as the pair of them set off to enjoy the birthday lunch Owen had purchased for Cliegg.

“I’ve never had Rodian cuisine,” commented Cliegg as they entered Mos Eisley and commenced the always complicated process of searching for parking on its congested streets. “I suppose it must be popular among Owen’s friends. Boys and the never-ending nonsense they get up to when their parents aren’t watching.”

They managed to locate a parking space within walking distance of the restaurant. Cliegg landed their speeder. They exited the speeder, Cliegg tucking the key securely in his pocket, and strode down the crowded sidewalk to the Rodian restaurant.

When they entered the cool, marvelously climate-controlled environment, they were quickly led to an empty booth by the bubbly hostess, who deposited menus on the table for them to peruse and assured them that their server would arrive within minutes to take their order.

“Rodian eel?” Cliegg stared dubiously down at his menu. “I didn’t even know there were any eels on Tatooine. I didn’t believe there was enough water on Tatooine for eels to survive.”

“There probably isn’t.” Shmi shrugged. Studying her own menu that contained so many exotic foods. Foods she had never tasted or even imagined might exist in the universe. The galaxy beyond Tatooine was so large, and she had seen so little of it. Unlike her Anakin. He would have explored so much of it by now. Under the tutelage of the Jedi as he was. “These eels are likely imported.”

Before Cliegg could reply to this, their waitress materialized, datapad in hand, to take their orders. She introduced herself as Biala and asked if they would like anything to drink.

Glancing down at the menu, seeing the listed wine and knowing that Cliegg would never buy anything so indulgent for himself, Shmi ordered a bottle of aged Rodian wine for the two of them to share. Understanding that Owen would want them to enjoy the meal. To be indulgent for once.

After taking their order of wine, Biala disappeared to permit them a few more minutes to examine the menu with its strange and wonderful array of foods. When she returned with the wine, a bottle opener, and two crystal glasses, Shmi and Cliegg had still not decided what they should eat for lunch.

As Biala cracked the cork out of the bottle and filled a flute for each of them, Cliegg inquired, “Do you have a meal recommendation?”

“The nilluk strip is spicy and tender the way the chef cooks it,” Biala informed him.

“That sounds good.” Cliegg nodded. “I’ll have that with a side of cranker root.”

“Excellent choice, sir,” chirped Biala. She fixed her attention on Shmi. “And for you, ma’am?”

“I’ll have the same as my husband.” Shmi smiled at the waitress. Adding in a faux undertone as if she didn’t want Cliegg to overhear when really she did if only to torment him, “It’s my husband’s birthday. We’re here as something of a treat at my son’s expense.”

“You had to spill the denta beans.” Cliegg rolled his eyes as a grinning Biala vanished to place their orders with the kitchen.

“To my husband.” Shmi lifted her glass in a toast. “To his birthday, and to our beloved son who is paying for all this madness.”

“To many more years of insanity with my wife and son.” Cliegg echoed the gesture. Then tilted his flute back for a sip of wine.

Biala came back with their nilluk strips and sides of cranker root. The nilluk strips were every bit as tender and spicy as the waitress had promised, and the cranker roots that accompanied them were flecked with bantha butter and hot flakes of Rodian pepper.

Once they were done devouring their lunches, Biala whisked them away. Bringing out a complimentary galma fruit tart with a candle stuck through its gooey center. Biala led the restaurant in a chorusing birthday song in Cliegg’s honor before she allowed Cliegg to make a wish and blow out the candle. Cliegg seemed simultaneously happy and humiliated by the attention being showered on him during his special day.

When Cliegg and Shmi had eaten every last forkful of galma fruit tart, they paid their bill with the gift certificate from Owen and left on the table a generous tip from Shmi’s wallet for the waitress who had provided such friendly service.

On Shmi’s birthday, three months later, Cliegg presented her with a japor snippet necklace he had carved himself. A japor snippet necklace. A good luck charm on Tatooine. Made from wood meant to ward off evil. To bring fair fortune and endless happiness. A symbol of the purest, most self-sacrificing love. A snippet like the ones Anakin had once carved for her in the evenings after Watto let him off work.

Owen had a gift for her as well. A mushroom pie he cooked for dinner from mushrooms he had picked from the vaporators himself at sunrise. Awakening before the dawn for once so that he could create something decadent for her.

“The filling is so creamy.” Shmi beamed at her son as she took her first forkful of the mushroom pie he had made in honor of her birth. “It’s perfect.”

“I think I might have kept it in the oven too long.” Owen frowned down at his slice of pie. The crust was indeed too brown and crisp with overbaking, but to Shmi that made the pie no less perfect. It tasted wonderful to her because her son had cooked it for her with love in his heart. His caring for her was baked into every bite. How could she not savor every morsel? “It looks burned.”

“The crust is crustier than it should be.” Cliegg, Shmi noted with wry inward despair, would never learn tact. “Next time, you should take it out of the oven sooner.”

“It’s the best mushroom pie I’ve ever had.” Shmi shot her husband a quelling glance before smiling radiantly at Owen. “The umami of the mushrooms is amazing.”

“Oh, Mom.” Owen’s dismissive gesture made it plain she had embarrassed him again with the excesses of her approval and affection. “It was nothing. You’re always cooking meals for Dad and me. The least I could do was repay the favor by blundering around the kitchen and attempting to prepare a dinner for you.”

“You did more than attempt to prepare it.” Shmi ate another forkful of mushroom pie. Swearing to herself that she would never forget this moment. This birthday with Cliegg and Owen. That she would remember it forever. “You prepared it, and for that I thank you.”

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for reading and for your kind comments! One of my favorite parts about writing this story was indulging in all the detailed food descriptions (I made myself so hungry, haha), and I'm so glad that you thought everything sounded delicious! I picture Shmi, Owen, and Cliegg all being forthright, honest people, so it was important for me to try to showcase that in their conversations, so it is awesome to hear that you appreciated their candid conversations. There were also so many family moments that warmed my heart to write, and it is wonderful to know those resonated with you as well. Shmi is definitely write about the best way to honor a lost loved one is to keep your heart open to love and joy and not to shut itShmi is a wise women who almost always knows what she is talking about, and she is a good mother to Owen, just like she is to Anakin!

@earlybird-obi-wan As always, thank you so much for reading and for the sweet words of support! Family was definitely at the heart of this story for me, and I am so glad that you loved the family moments and seeing Owen come to accept Shmi and love her as Cliegg does. It can be hard to adjust to that sort of transition, but Shmi does a great job guiding him through it and he shows that he is able to open his heart to her, which is what love is really about. So it was nice to be able to showcase both the romantic love of Shmi and Cliegg in this story and the more mother/son love that developed between Shmi and Owen. There are just so many different types of love, and the OTP challenge provides such a wonderful opportunity and inspiration to explore them!

 

@Kahara, thank you so much for reading and commenting!

I did have fun showing the scamp side to Owen that I like to imagine existed before he became all stern and serious as Luke's guardian, and I am delighted to hear that you appreciated this glimpse into a mischievous younger Owen!

Exploring a year of birthdays was really appealing for me because I could truly track the growth of these characters and their relationships as they became a family. It really meant that I could examine more types of love than just romantic love, and I am so happy to hear that my focusing on all three birthdays worked so well for you.

Owen's birthday tore at my heart the most too because I could really feel his grief for his lost mother, and also Shmi's ache about Anakin having left to train as a Jedi. Losing those we love (however it happens!) is never easy and is always heartbreaking, but it was also moving for me to see how this new family is forming without a loss of memory or love for Owen's birth mother and for Anakin. There are missing chairs at this table, and that is hard to come to terms with, but there is also the hope of a new family being forged and growing in love. And I think the two ideas and feelings complement each other really well.

I head canon both Cliegg and Owen as being those who would give thoughtful gifts that have a lot of attention and care behind them because in my mind they tend to favor actions over words in terms of showing love (when they show love with words, it is very blunt and honest more than flowery romantic) so it is wonderful to hear that you thought the gifts spoke volumes without their having to say a single word!

Thank you again for the kind words! They really warmed my heart

 

This was so sweet! I live how this new Lars family’s birthdays become ways for them to get to know each other and sort out their relationships with each other. I even choked up a bit at Owen and Shmi’s talk early on, about honoring his birth mother while coming to accept his stepmother—because Shmi really is doing the exact same thing in navigating how to accept her stepson so soon after she’s lost her birth son. She and Owen are really going through the same process here, and I never thought of it that way before! And all the food products, from the berry-filled panna cakes to the fruit tart to the mushroom pie, sound scrumptious—you do a great job with those food descriptions! Wonderful job exploring the dynamics of this couple and this family, and you’re just the one to do it, too—thanks so much for sharing!

 

@Findswoman Thank you so much for reading and reviewing and for providing the challenge that served as beautiful inspiration for this fic

This story was a very affirming and heartwarming one for me to write, and I am so glad that you felt it was so sweet! Birthdays can be such wonderful milestones and in this piece it was very powerful for me to be able to use the birthdays of Owen, Cliegg, and Sami to draw them closer together and define their new familial relationships over the course of the year.

I definitely got tears in my eyes (which made it very difficult for me to see my keyboard!) as I was writing the talk between Owen and Shmi where they discuss how he can honor his birth mother and not forget her while still accepting and coming to love his stepmother. I think you are right too that Shmi is going through a very similar process too in terms of holding onto her love and memory of Anakin while at the same time opening her heart to her new stepson. This isn't an easy situation for either of them. Both have experienced loss and pain. But in a way that pain and loss can unite them and help them build a bond in this new family they are creating. Writing this story really helped me flesh out what that process and journey would've looked like for them, and I am so glad that you appreciated that angle and perspective in this story!

I must confess to be something of a foodie so I just couldn't resist integrating some mouth-watering foods like berry-filled panna cakes and fruit tart and delightfully savory mushroom pie. Which of course made me very hungry as a result But I am so happy the food descriptions were a highlight for you because I do love indulging in them as an author.

Thank you again for the kind words, and I'm so glad you enjoyed this exploration of the Lars family dynamics