This is being written from the perspective of an 11 year old boy.
My mom took a temporary vacation to never-never land. She must have gotten side tracked taking care of all the lost boys, because she rarely came back. When she did visit, she seemed to have turned into Peter Pan.
She’d sneak through my window, linger long enough to make me believe in fairy tales and happy dreams, then fly away again until her heart got bored or she felt guilty. I’ll never know which. The worst thing about being abandoned by a parent is this: you still love them even when they don’t deserve it.
At night, I’d sit on my windowsill looking for the second star to the right, all the while wondering if she was looking too. I was almost a teen when she went away, so doing things such as wishing on pennies made me feel so childish. I wished anyway. I think every person has a small section of their heart designated to their inner child. That way, when something from your innocence as big as your mother suddenly leaving, your inner child awakens and begins to cry.
Unfortunately, in my case, it was a long time before she came back to soothe me, but she did come back.
I had become so obsessed with waiting for her that eventually the ticking of clocks became as painful as crocodile teeth in my skin.
That’s why I never frowned upon hook; it isn’t until you experience pain that you start to realize sometimes the bad guy makes more sense.
And even after five years I still feel like Wendy, waiting in my bed every night for one last kiss. Reciting how much I believe in fairies and hoping that one day I’ll be able to fly off into the night, to feel my mothers love again.
Posted by Beauty76 using “WordPress” for Android.