Do. Or do not. Either way, I worry.

For 800 years, have I trained Jedi. For 800 years, have I ever heard “thank you?” 

Your path you must decide. Being broke, the destiny you crave. 

Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is. Yet grandchildren, you’ll never give me. 

On many long journeys have I gone. And waited, too, for others to return from journeys of their own. Some return; some are broken; some come back so different only their names remain. Her name…what was it?  The one from the show Judith loves. Judith, my friend from the star commuter. Her son. Dating a Porg, he is. 

Powerful you have become, the dark side I sense in you. Breastfed you too long, I did. “Latch Master,” they called you. 

Secret, shall I tell you? Judith’s son, dating a Por—oh, already told you, have I? Alright, yell at your mother, you need not.  

That is why you fail. Judith’s son never yells. 

A Jedi’s strength flows from the Force. And your father’s Force…very generous, it is. Oh, stop! Raised a prude, I did! 

Soon will I rest, yes, forever sleep. Earned it, I have. Twilight is upon me. But I know very busy, you are. Too busy to call.

May the Force be with you. Because give up, I do.