Neverland

The slim pixie was on the other side of the line: “come see Finding Neverland with us”. A moment’s hesitation, considering: the child’s constant demand for attention. The child will need her. Her mother came for a visit two days ago.

“Yes”, she answers. “I will come”. “Four forty five at the Carlton Cinema”, the pixie says. She gets dressed in a rush, blurts a quick goodbye, and escapes through the door before her departure will register on the child’s mind.

Rushing through the streets she breathes in the fresh air. Choosing the sunny side of  the street she hurries. Drifting with the crowds, she glances at their faces, glimmering in the afternoon sun; Gorgeous Asian girls, their hair hazy walking clumsily on high heels, a fancy looking woman with a fur coat checking Cartier’s merchandise, a toothless beggar, smiling drunkenly.

She feels free. She dashes, rushes, glares, wanders. She breathes in the fresh air, the air of freedom. She is alone; a unique separate entity. She wears her anonymity like a crown.

She manages to get to the movie just in time. Her pixie waits for her at the box office. She sees the movie about the man who wrote Peter Pan. Of course that we are all children, and there are fairies in the world. Of course there are.

Comments

[pixie]

How very gallant of you to call me pixie, I take it as a compliment, of course. I wonder what my kids would say to that. I have a feeling they'd choose a different other-wordly name, perhaps a wicked witch?

[Lorien]

You show signes of starting to get used to the new in your life. That's good! :-)