I've accomplished very little the past several days. It's been just me and my youngest daughter, who is nine, together while my husband is away, my oldest two, long since moved on and out, and numbers three and four headed home from college starting tomorrow. You'd think it would be very quiet around here, but #5 and I can barely hear above the din. There is music to dance to, hockey players to cheer on, movies to watch, important conversations to have about her upcoming dance recital and her schoolwork and what mommy's writing and the book #5 is writing at the same time and....

We are having the most amazing time.

I didn't get to do this when my older four, who are just a little over five years apart, were #5's age. There was too little one-on-one time with numbers 1 through 4. There are perks to every situation, though, and the four of them had with each other, a camaraderie that #5 will never have in quite the same way. She is the adored little sister rather than the trusted friend that they are to each other. And that's OK. #5 and I have our own camaraderie, our own chemistry, and I am loving it right now more than words can say.

My #5 (oh heck...her name is Casey)...Casey is the same age that Anakin was when Qui-gon and company showed up and turned Anakin and Shmi's world upside down. Before that, it was just mother and child, the two of them against the world. I can imagine their days. Even though their lives in slavery were not so easy as mine, I'm sure there were plenty of magical moments. Did they read silly stories and giggle at the characters? Did they hear music playing and make up dances to it? Perhaps they used blankets and made pretend space forts to plot imaginary attacks on mythical creatures. Did Shmi hold her son tightly as they watched the suns set, telling him to never take for granted the beauty of the twilight on their desert planet? And when Shmi tucked Ani in at night, did she ever cuddle with him and just revel in the miracle of having that child to hold? Did Ani ever tell her that she was the best mommy in the world, and that he wished the night could last forever?

Nine is a tremendous age. At nine, a child can read and play and understand and share with his or her parent, pieces of the adult he or she will all-too-soon become. Casey is a hopeless romantic in training, just like her mother. Like me, Casey loves sports and watching movies. When a song with a good hip hop beat comes on, our heads automatically bob in time to the music with the exact same jut of our chins, and before a touching song's first line can be fully played, Casey has already searched my face for the tear she knows will soon appear there. The outside world has shared its beauty with my daughter, and she is still too young to have been jaded by it. I love this time. I whisper a silent "thank you" every, single day for this time with my youngest that I didn't have nearly enough of with the other four.

I can't imagine this time being ripped away from me and from Casey, even for something as noble as the chance to become a Jedi. There are very real reasons why Anakin descended into the hell of living as Darth Vader, and very real reasons why Shmi somehow survived the Tuscans'attack long enough to see her son just one more time. Perhaps they both held onto images of a night when Ani was nine, cuddling in bed and giggling together at some silly story, some special secret that only the two of them could share. Perhaps such a memory gave Shmi strength while it ripped Anakin's heart into pieces after she died.

I know that place in their hearts. My daughter and I were there just last night.