When I was five, I wanted Princess Leia to be my mom.  She was gorgeous, funny, and kicked butt.  She spoke her mind, and didn’t let anyone bully her (we all saw what happened to Jabba).  On top of all this, she was a princess!  Five-year-old me was pretty sure she didn’t need much more to recommend her for the position.  However, the role of “mother” was already filled in my house, so all I could do was dream about the mother I’d never have.

When I was in junior high, I read an article in Time and learned that Carrie Fisher had a daughter.  I was secretly jealous of Billie Lourd.  Her mom was Princess Leia, the coolest woman in the world!  She was clearly the luckiest kid on the planet.

It’s been a very long time since I wished to have a space princess mom.  I got older.  I discovered that my real mom was basically Wonder Woman (always saving the day, and loving me more than I deserved), and that in the real world, Princess Leia wasn’t quite so perfect.

Carrie Fisher was a very funny lady, and a fantastic writer.  She did what is so hard to do.  She wrote about the things she struggled with, and did it honestly and beautifully.  I’ve read her memoirs and laughed ’til I cried as I read stories that made my problems seem so small and my life seem so normal.  Without her writing, we wouldn’t know that George Lucas firmly believed that there was no underwear in space.  (I truly wonder what NASA has to say about this.)

Carrie Fisher would’ve made a terrible mom for me.  However, she gave me (and the rest of the world) Princess Leia, and for that I’ll always be grateful.