None of them knew of the joy that was felt at that very moment, high above their heads in the sky – Peter, his fairy, and another Lost Boy on their way to adventure in that Land I am sure you’ve heard of by now. They wouldn’t know, either, of the great fight that occurred on the uppermost point of the cliffs, on its very precipice, between one Peter Pan and one Captain James Hook, Peter saved from the blade that time by what Hook thought was the ticking of a clock. Nor would they be able to see the two mermaids sunning themselves below, basking together on the base of the lighthouse.
There comes a time, you see, as your age reaches higher numerals, adult responsibilities and the demands of the world begin to you away. It begins slowly, subtly, and in the smallest of ways, so insignificant that most just don’t notice: colors aren’t as vivid to the eye, joy more difficult to come by, you have to truly look to see, when before you didn’t have to try. You cease to play the way that you used to, nor do you miss it or give it a second thought. You come to imagine less, create less. And then. The most tragic rite of passage. You’ll begin to forget. Neverland. Adventures had. That a place like it even exists. You’ll forget your friends there, the laughter shared with them, the youth you’d once wrapped yourself up and reveled in. There are very few in this world that are able to fight such forces, sadly, I must tell you. It simply is too powerful for the average person to battle.
There are some, however, who are still able to see, who always play, who will forever remain wise to the ways of the Land. It is both choice and nature for them. A desire present at birth for us all, cultivated and grown, shaped for the few from cruel tricks played on them by the sometimes cruel circumstances of the lives they’d lived. And while this ability is seen as a gift by most of them, so too it is seen as a flaw. Or maybe not so much a flaw as a touch of a curse. As much as theirs is a beautiful life ’tis a lonely one, too, for the simple fact that most everyone does, in fact, grow up. That is, I can say, the great sacrifice. Forever in possession of one’s youth, there will always be another Wendy. She is fated to age and embrace all of the things that come with it, like a Sunday drive with the grandchildren out to the cliffs.