So there I was, catching falling stars on my bed one night and contemplating on my longest ever crush on Peter Pan. Maybe if he were for real (and if dogs could really fly) I could too, if only I didn’t know that while I believed so much on fairies, my fairies never did believe in me. I could not blame them; I never really took off the galaxies stuffed in my pockets, and I kept on catching more falling stars than I could hold in my hands. They must have thought that it was this weight that kept me anchored to the ground.
I found pixie dust sprinkled inside my shoes, when I finally got off the bed. Only I didn’t get that magical feeling in the movies, (the room did not echo “you can fly, you can fly!” ) It stung my feet instead, like when you sit on your leg for too long, stung my feet like having that funny bone on your elbow hit by the classroom chair. I liked wearing them anyway, for it reminded me of Peter Pan (and have I mentioned that I had the longest crush on him?) and I thought maybe if I wore these pixie shoes, by some good fairytale karma, he would appear. Even though it stung. (Even though I didn’t know yet that later on, it will bleed.)
Anyway I always kept my needles ready, just in case he drops by searching for his shadow.
So then my window flew open, as I watched in awe as the second star to the right shone brighter and brighter, I ran to the sill and stood on the roof thinking of what it’s like, face to face with your most elusive dream – must have been that same feeling in the wax museum when you’re face to face with hollywood stars, only better. (as I have never really found wax a legitimate substitute for human beings – wax hands are too slippery to hold.) Peter Pan was more than a Michael Jackson. Heck, Peter Pan was far greater to me then even Elvis.
I felt afloat. My feet began to leave the roof tiles – I was going to fly! I gave it one huge leap of faith, and I drifted into the endless sky. (And for the first time ever, like that cow in the nursery rhyme, I finally understood how it felt to jump over the moon)
I didn’t stay there for long though. Next thing I knew I was being pulled hard into the earth, plunging into the darkness underneath me. Down down down down down down
It was a seemingly endless fall. How high have I really been? Down, down, down.
Down, down, down, I couldn’t have crashed harder. The moment I hit the ground I felt my bones dig themselves into my other bones, and the stars that I have held so dearly in these pockets fell all over the place, dug themselves into my skin, like shards of that full length mirror that used to hang in our old apartment, (along with those five years of bad luck multiplied by a thousand stars and a few dozen galaxies and the remains of the first dog in space)
I had legitimate reasons to cry then, only I figured that crying is not as much fun as laughing, And so I did. And all of a sudden I realized that it takes more than pixie dust to fly.
And while I thought that my fairies never did believe in me, I felt myself begin to rise.
(I never found my Peter, but who am I to protest now that I’m in Neverland?)
Credits from dragfly of Peyups