Dear Peter Pan,


When I was a kid, (well, even a little as a teenager), I waited by my window for you at night. I would sneak out onto the little roof that covered our front door, sit on the cold rubbery shingles and pull my knees to my chest. And then I would wish, pray, as hard as I could that you would come.

I knew exactly what I’d do when you finally showed up- cover myself in pixie dust, faith, and trust. Thinking up wonderful, happy thoughts wouldn’t be necessary. The utter joy of the moment would have me floating almost before magic touched me. I would have followed you in an instant, second star and straight on til morning, if it took a hundred, hundred mornings. I would fly and I would dance and sing. I’d splash with the mermaids, fight pirates, and leap from treetop to cloud to back down in the sea, riding the wind like a rollercoaster.

I can never decide if I’m grateful or bitter that you never came and took me away to Neverland all those years ago. Who would I be now, if you had?

Would I have remembered it all? Or would the sudden realization that I would one day never go back have haunted me until I drove it from my memories. It’s the old “better to have loved and lost then to have never loved” thing that people throw around. And I’m not sure I believe that.

I still believe in fairies. I still believe in magic. I still believe in innocence and childhood. I still believe in you. And I think, maybe, I like being able to believe in something I’ve never seen, especially now as I grow older. That’s a sort of skill that I want to hold on for the rest of my life. There is so much good in the world that can’t be seen, and I want to be able to believe in that too. Watching the stars and seeing other worlds in them helps this world make more sense.

But Peter, even knowing all that, I’m still a little angry. Magic is precious and special, and I would have loved every second I spent experiencing it. There’s no way to know who I might be today if you had brought me to Neverland. I might even be worse off… but there’s a small fluttering part of my soul buried deep in my heart, a part that would give anything to find out.

It would just be something, knowing for a Fact how magnificently big the world is. I suppose that’s the point though. We don’t always get to know the shape of universe, so we just try and believe the best of it.

I believe in Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust. I’m just musing on the “faith” part of it all. So far, trying to figure it out has been an awfully big adventure.


Love always,

A Believer



Peter Pan is from from the novel and play by J.M. Barrie


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