Wendy sits on her stool, by her mirror, and waits patiently for the thing that never comes. She is in her nightgown. Oh, it is strange on her now! In places it hangs off, in others it is almost bursting. How it seems to have shrunk up her arms, how it has receded to her knees!
Wendy does not know why she wears this, only that it is important that she does. It is strange though, that it does not fit. She knows not how it has happened, for it was yesterday that she was there with Pan, in that country…or was it an Island? Or…or perhaps a star?
And there was a little thing there too! It…it tinkled, she thinks, or something of the sort. It was yellow…or…or was it red? Wendy was sure she remembered it red…
And the mermaids and pirates! Oh the adventures she had, they had been so precious to her! She had loved them…or…or was it hate? Despair? Anger? She knew there was one whom she hated the most – Smee, wasn't it? Oh yes, Smee was the cruel pirate who…who…oh, what was it again?
…There was something else…a clock that went tick! Wendy laughed, what was scary about that? Oh, and of course there was the boys! They were so wild and unruly, weren't they?
…weren't they? Wendy finds it hard to believe that Toodles ever acted the way he did in her memories. If indeed they were memories…and not a dream.
Wendy sits on her chair and waits, though she does not remember who she is waiting for. She knows only she is to sit in that spot every year, in hopes that he will return, that boy…or was it a man? Or a demon? Or an Angel?
Wendy no longer remembers.
She picks up the brush and combs her hair. She thinks she glimpses silver, but decided against it. The baby behind her coughs and she glances, worried, before returning to her reflection. Oh, how her faces looks so withered! Perhaps some rouge will add colour…to make her look younger again, like she used to.
As she prepares herself, she does not notice the shadow at the window. He looks in and weeps, because he thinks that Wendy has left him again, and left her mother here to wait with one of her brothers. He looks at the person, who doesn't hear her baby's laughter at Tinkerbells curses, who mistakes them as a cough. He looks at the person who does not notice his shadow, or his presence, or even hear his pipe when he plays it.
He looks at her, she who is not Wendy, who is a stranger and a monster. He looks at the woman and turns away in disgust.
Oh…it is sad, when two people are separated by time, and maturity, and love.
Wendy will always wait, but she will wait in vain. Peter will always come, but he will never find that little girl who he could make fly.
Wendy will never set foot in the lagoon again, she will never battle pirates, brave the jungle. Wendy now must forever and always play mother, for now it is the only game she can play.
For Wendy is no longer a child.
And only children can come to Neverland.