Chapter One

Cozy Kitchen

" 'You won't forget me will you?' I asked him, he turned to me and said 'Me? Never!' " I told Jane my thirteen year old daughter, cupping my hands over my heart as if taking an oath I uttered "a promise I would believe forever"

"Is this really true Mother?" Jane inquired quizzically her eye brows raising in disbelief, but her eyes wide with curiosity. She couldn't trick me - her mother, that she didn't care.

"Every word of it" I replied nodding. I was immune to my daughters remarks about Peter Pan - even if she didn't believe, I still kept the magic alive for Daniel. I was a mother and a wife now. Peter Pan was part of my child-hood, and I loved him so, but my world revolved around my own children now. Watching them grow up and helping them up when they fall.

We sat together as mother and daughter at the kitchen table. The fire was crackling in the grate, its warm cosy light spilling around the stony kitchen. Tea cups placed in front of us. Daniel my youngest was fast asleep upstairs, I opened up my old diary from 17 years ago and flipped through pages of my memories. My heart filled with nostalgic memories, memories I hoped my children would have. Finally I found the right double page, I wrote one blistering winter's night exactly one year after Peter had returned my brothers and I back home. I read to Jane:

"The night wind air turned cold much too fast, and winter was upon us.. "
"Summer could not last."
" A winter so cold, and long""You are gone, and with your absence I feel you have taken the sun..

"The birds have fled.."

Oh Peter, tis' cold I dread!"

"I was rather dramatic during adolescence " I confessed with a laugh, I could feel my eyes smiling and my cheeks getting warm with bashfulness.

"Mother, why do the entries start with 'Dear Peter' are they letters" Jane asked slowly.

"Yes, they are letters" I agreed the fire popped loudly embers spluttering out on the floor.

"I would pretend to write letters to him" I explained showing her the entries, "Of course, I could never send them. Unfortunately, I'm afraid 'second star to the left and straight on to morning', isn't a valid address"

Just then the kettle whistled and hissed indicating that the water inside had boiled and was bubbling over. Shooting up, I took the brass pot off the fire with the oven glove and filled both of our tea cups.

"Oh Jane, could you please get the milk, it's on the side" I asked getting a face full of steam, Jane brought the milk over to the table. I noted how tall she was getting. Once set, I continued reading:

"Dear sweet Peter I've missed you so, I keep the window open, but my brain is saying 'No'
Oh dear sweet peter time is running short, and logic is being taught."

I looked up at my daughter's confused face her pretty blue eyes wide and reflecting the candle light.

"Oh, I went to a very strict boarding school" I tried to explain the horrors involved in my childhood education "The school taught strict etiquette, from a delightfully young age" I sang, and I read a passage from my seven-year old self. Wincing at the spelling and doing my best to make out the letters.

"Oh no! Here they cume, with their books, and tests."
"Soupority and athority labeled on their chests."
"Oh, that's okay they have tea."
"What..! No suger for me?"

Jane laughed sipping at her tea. My heart melted, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile was a rarity. Combination of the war, and being a teenage girl had brought forth Jane's reserved nature.

"'Your appeerunse is inkredeblee importunt, how are you going to find a sooitible husband?'"
"The ladee said to me."
" ' I won't marry!' " I told that witch!

"Then.. I sorre her lefte eye twitch."

" 'With a wooden stick, she slappde my palm, and told me i'd live in a barn!' "
"That witch! that witch! that stoopid ugly witch with the schoopid left eye twitch!"
"Uh-oh this was staje two of growing up..you must sip your tea and shut-up!

Jane stared at me, astonished that her mother, who preaches respect to adults had written such a thing.

"The woman was a horror" I said flatly, not encouraging such language and I dissapeared behind my teacup. Jane smirked, also hiding behind her cup of tea.

"That night I went to the window, and whispered rather oddly to the stars.. hoping they would deliver my message to Peter" I recalled shrugging at my foolishness, "I told them" and then I read off the paper:

"Dear Peter, Peter! I'm drincking sugerless tea and the magic is diffikult to see!"

"No sugar in your tea!" Jane teased jokingly, "Such a tragedy!"

"Indeed" agreeing lightly as I slid the sugar jar towards me. Inside the jar the sugar cubes caught the candle light and gleamed delicately like snow balls in the sun. I plopped two sugar cubes into my cup of tea, Jane did the same. As I stirred I watch the cubes dissolve into the creamy brown whirl pool. I then sipped at my beverage, the sweetness warming me. My guilty pleasure!

"Such fond memories.." I sighed as I melted into another sip of tea.

I closed my diary feeling they were much too personal to share with my young daughter. Perhaps one day I would share with her my other poems from my youth, but tonight was not the night. So instead we chatted about light, joyous topics and watched a flurry of winter's snow cascade in front of the window waltzing with the wind..

Authors Note:

Did you enjoy? I hope you did. xoxoxo - Cheshire Catz... meow.