It had been two years since the fateful night that Wendy and the Lost Boys returned to what is now their home, and Peter Pan had flown away back to Neverland, back to his home. And now, on this night Wendy sat by the window in the nursery where she used to live- before she moved to the bedroom down the hall- and gazed out of the window trying her best to recollect everything about her adventures. About Peter Pan- the way his eyes lit up like sea-blue crystals when he smiled that wicked grin of his.
Mrs. Darling had once spoken to Wendy and the Boys about how her and Mr. Darling had to shut their dreams away in a little drawer and every once in a while take they would take them out, and admire them. Upon first hearing this Wendy strived to understand what she could not- for when you are a child something as unselfish as locking away your very own dreams seems unthinkable. Now Wendy understood- for she had her own little drawer, where she kept her dreams of Peter- her dreams that he would come back for her, and she understood the pain, how it indeed gets harder and harder to close the drawer.
But she did. She locked it tight- for she was brave- she was Peters brave Wendy. Peter would never want Wendy upset, and she knew that if she declined to lock up the drawer now once and for all she would be caused an great amount more pain in the long run. So she locked him away, her dreams of ever being a novelist, her dreams of her adventures and of Neverland- forever. Of course this was an imaginary drawer- but it hurt her just the same to throw the imaginary key out of the stained glass window into the cool early September air and down onto the hard cobbled street.
She shut the window with a resounding thud, and with it wiped the tears now drowning her cheeks. She walked back to her proper room- her ladies room for only her, without her lovable brothers begging and pleading for stories.
'They won't be hearing any of them for a while' Wendy thought with a harsh smile of pain- her eyes again becoming glassy and rimmed with her own tears at the terrible thought of leaving her home.
And with this Wendy entered her room, stared around helplessly at it's emptiness and the brand new deep brown leather suitcase, packed lovingly by her mother, sat inanimately on her fresh white bed sheets. Her sight lingered mournfully on the window on the far wall- the moon was bright tonight. Just as it had been on her journey to Neverland.
The young lady walked past her bed and glanced, if only for a moment, at her reflection in her dressing table mirror. A beautiful girl, no, lady, stared back with brilliant blue doe-like eyes, dressed in her baby blue laced gown that she had worn that evening for her going-away dinner with the family. Her hand reached subconsciously to stroke the right hand corner of her deep red rosebud mouth- long ago devoid of a kiss.
Wendy stepped towards her very own window- just as ornate as the nursery's, but with a lot less memories chiseled into its frame. She breathed a lady-like sigh and knew she was right to throw away the key to her drawer. For even if peter did come back he would not know where to find her- for tomorrow she would be leaving for the Alcott boarding school for girls, a little outside London, a lifetime away from Peter.