Flight

For 30 years I did absolutely nothing different. I went to work at the same time, came home at the same time, kissed my wife, smoked a pipe and went to bed. For 30 years, I
woke up with the same thought Nothing will be the slightest bit different today. Oh I've had my fill of adventures, once upon a time I had so much fun that I decided never to grow old. But that time has passed. Now I am an old man, my memories are wrapped neatly in cellophane, tucked into the back of a drawer for someone else to enjoy. Instead of grappling with pirates on the open seas, I regale my grandchildren with stories of "The Boy Who Would Never Grow Up" smiling secretly to
myself that I was he long, long ago.

Usually, I can tamp down these thoughts of adventure, ignore the longing to fly, but sometimes it is too much of a temptation to peer through the smog at the stars overhead. Staring at the sky this evening, I was tempted to rise onto my toes. I told myself it would be just so I could see over the next hill, so I could see my house in the distance. What
would it feel like to be a foot taller? What's the perspective from a height of 7"2'? I could rest my feet this way. I could rotate my ankles a little, loosen the tension that comes with 40 years sitting behind a desk. If I scrunched my shoulders, no one would notice I was off the ground.

I don't know what it is about this particular evening, but I feel somehow younger. Those feelings came flooding back like a door in my mind had been opened. Suddenly I found myself floating; amidst the crowd of people on the pavement, I soared unnoticed, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. Up there, I could see the sun setting in the
distance. Even this time of year, when it's cold and gray, I could make out the harsh, yellow orb. I miss the heat and the colour of home, the lights of the campfire, the way the food tasted, the peace with which I slept.

No, I mustn't think of it as home. No respectable home is without a roof and fireplace. No decent community is bereft of a post office. I must think of it only as a dream. A wonderful impossible dream. If I let my fancies take over, I might not come back this time. This time? Where did that come from? Were those my thoughts? Remember the bewitching lights of the fairies? The way they taunted
you as they flit in and out of between tree branches? No no, I mustn't think that way, mustn't draw attention to myself, mustn't let those feelings take hold. Almost home now, better go to bed early. I'm not tired.

Well, as long as I'm being sentimental, it couldn't hurt to pull out the old costume. Maybe I'll just take a peek at it. No one will know. Maybe moths have gotten in and started eating away at it; yeah I'd better have a look. No, it's fine. Better than fine. It's more gorgeous than I remembered. It shines even still with a radiant, otherworldly glow, fresh as the day I first put it
on.

I wonder if it would still fit?

"Huh!" It still does! I can't believe how it feels; so light, so strong. Woven from mermaids' tears, the fabric glides over my legs like a stag moving through tall grass. The boots still feel like they've got some use in them yet. They don't make things like this here. But, what's this in the pocket? Can it be? Oh my goodness. My knife. The curved blade shines in the moonlight streaming in through the skylight. It's been ages since I held this in my hand. What I would give to be young again. Maybe just try a few practice swings. How natural it feels in my hand. Like another limb. Oh, but I've gone too far. I'd better put this stuff away before someone sees me.

You know. Maybe I can just fly around the house for a little bit before anyone gets home. Rearrange things on
the top shelves, I've been meaning to do that anyway. But, that open window looks so inviting. The breeze whips through the room, surprisingly warm and inviting, as though sent from someplace far off, singing of warm beaches and sand. No, I'd catch my death.
Well, it's not like anyone would see me...No, I can't! I have to stop this right now! I made a promise to myself. I've long since grown up. I'm past all this nonsense.

There, back on my feet. Sort of. Well, at least I can see the floor from would be the harm in just taking a quick spin through the moonlight? I'm already up here. Sure, and if I get lost, I can just...take some
supplies. Yes. It's not as though I'm even facing the right direction, it's that way...toward the moon.

I can feel the earth rotating beneath me, spinning me in
that direction. I can almost taste the sunshine, feel the years dropping away into the blackness below me. Why the excuses? I'm old enough to make my own decisions, aren't I? Why, I'm nearly 70 years old, I could go if I wanted to. Naturally though, I don't really want to. It's just a fancy of mine. I'm being silly. I need rest. I can't really remember where it is, anyway.

"First star to the right and then straight on until morning." No! Shut up! I can't! I'm too old...I...Well why the hell not?! Why don't I just take off? I could see it one last time. I could go and be back before anyone missed me. Yes, I'll do it. They can get by without me for a few days, weeks maybe. How long have I been flying? I can't see the city anymore. All this time I've
been moving toward it, it's all I can see now, that star. The sun will rise in a few moments. Even now, my family is noticing the open window, the box by the bed. I can see the mountains in the distance.

We found Peter the next morning sitting in his chair by the window; facing out toward his beloved Neverland. Gone home for the last time.