I was reminded the other day of a time I really truly believed in Peter Pan and Never land. I acknowledge that every child has a period of make believe and of escaping into their own little worlds.
For me that world was a saving grace so many times. I would write notes to Peter and leave them on my windowsill at night. Slowly trying to lower them down to the sill outside, and I honestly believed at times that one day he would come to take me away, to save me from the reality of a childhood I often refused. To whisk me away to a place I could fill my days with adventure and happiness.
I believed it so fiercely at times, reasoning if the world could be as horrific as the things I endured then there must be a chance however small of a very real escape to a very unbelievable happy reality. Of course it was a logic applied through the eyes of a child if the monsters are real then the hero’s are too. I just had to hold on long enough for the rescue.
That childhood story gave me hope when I couldn’t find any in the world I lived. I am glad that Peter Pan was a story I knew and today I can say I am glad he didn’t whisk me away. But I do find myself thinking of all those children who are lost in a world which fails to see them and don’t have the comfort of a story they believe in.