I Remember Peter Pan…

I remember him like a dream. He came to my window to hear me tell the stories. I couldn’t sleep and no one cared to read to me so I made up my own stories and told them out loud. For a while it was just me and the girl who slept in the next bed. Her name was Sophie. She was a few years younger than I was and she was totally freaked out when the lights went out. I started off telling her stories from Disney movies I remembered. A few weeks later, I noticed that he stood on our ledge, listening to me talk from our window. Considering I was paralized, I was in no position to chase him away so I made the stories more elaborate. I included pirates and Indians and lots of action. He eventually started to trust me and came closer and closer while I told the stories to Sophie. I didn’t know his name so, keeping with the Disney theme, I called him Peter. He was exactly what Wendy would have fallen for. He had blonde hair and sky blue eyes. He was beautiful in every way. I caught him spying on me one afternoon. I was so thirsty and Sophie was at school. Peter was at the window and I called out to him to help me get a drink of water. He opened the window, careful not to make any noise or they would come in. The machine that held me was pointing me toward the floor but I felt him watching me. He crawled in carefully, moving so quietly like a ghost. He found the pitcher they kept on the table next to me and poured me a glass of water. He brought the straw to my mouth and I felt the heaven that was the cold, clean water coming through the straw. My gratitude would have made me do anything for him at that point. I tried to say the words, to say “thank you,” but, for some reason, my vocal chords still could not make the sound. I could not even move my hands to touch him. He reached out to me. He touched my cheek. A single tear slid down my right eye and onto his hand. In that moment, I was a million miles away yet so close to him that I wanted to scream. How long had it been since someone heard my voice. Why was it so important to me that he heard me? I lived with Sophie for how long and it had become a fact of life that she would never hear me speak except at night when she cried herself to sleep. Why did it hurt me so bad to be mute in front of this boy? Why did I care so much? At that moment, I saw all of my answers in him. He knew me. He wanted to tell me so much, but someone was coming down the hall. He kissed my cheek and as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

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  1. Ohhhh Yalda….your beautiful vulnerable soul has been exposed. So now we mortals know the secret of your strength and the source of your drive. Don’t worry, we wont tell THEM.

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