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Beru regrets sometimes that she could never give Luke more. The world of the farm is so small, and his dreams have always been so big. He’s clever with machines, and quick to learn what she and the town school taught him, but that’s not much of an education. He’s a responsible boy who does his duty, caring for the farm he doesn’t love while his friends move on to more adventurous things, one by one. She watches him watch the stars, and knows they won’t keep him here much longer; he’ll shed their weight one day and be gone.
Bail thinks sometimes that he puts too much on Leia. She’s been weighted with responsibility since she was old enough to understand what being a princess means. He’s watched her study politics and debate and diplomacy, watched her struggle to control the fiery temper that is her greatest weakness and greatest strength. And now she’s committed herself to the Rebellion as well, taking up his dream as her own. He wonders sometimes, as she looks at the stars, if she dreams of freedom from that weight, but he doesn’t ask; it’s one thing he knows he doesn’t have to give.