The air is sweet, sickening sweet at times. Parts of the island never fail to make me hate being here just because of the way that it smells. But here in the Laughing Grass fields it isn’t so bad, it is almost sensual in the way that the spice mixes with the heat from the yellow sun. The warmth melts over my bare arms, now tanned with months of hunting with the boys for more adventures. There is an endless supply of quests to be found if one is in the mind to search for them. I however am not. I find myself wishing for a quiet meadow and a long book to read.

However that is not “fun” according to my flock of Lost Boys and I must proceed through the waving sea of grass as we search for this mysterious place where Pirates have buried another treasure. I feel as if these Pirates must have just wandered around and around the island just to hide treasure for the boys to looks for. Did they not tire of climbing up the tallest mountains, peaked with snow only to climb back down into the humid jungle in search of the best hiding spot?

Peter is never tired of hunting for anything. In fact he barely ever seems bored on any of these escapades. He swims with the mermaids in their aqua marine pools and runs with the deer as Tiger Lily teaches him to be “one with nature”. All of this was far more fun when I presumed that Peter was just as interested in taming these wild beasts and feral females as most modern men would be. Yet I find that he is forgetful of proper behavior.

Just this morning I was trying to tidy up the den, filled to the ceiling with filthy clothes tossed aside from even more dirty boys who refuse to bathe. They have fallen asleep right in the middle of the floor in a huge dog pile of arms and legs many a night. I can see now why Mother was always cross with John and Michael when they gave her a fit before they were forced to tend to their hygiene. Now I look down at my feet and find that as much as I sweep the floors and wipe down the table with the cleanest of rags, I am just as dirty as Mud Puddle and Gopher. However finding a private lagoon to swim without those mermaids poking fun at me and trying to drag me into the depths of the sea is most difficult. Perhaps today on our exploration I will find a freshwater stream or a cool waterfall to slip into to wash away the dirt.

sara at the aquarium (2)Ahead I hear the wild call of boys tracking their prey. “Skaw! Skaw!” they cheer with great enthusiasm. I cannot help but to roll my eyes as I see them up ahead running half-naked into the tall trees of the Gloomy Woods. The trees heavy with limbs that are so dense that little to no light breaks through to the ground below. Somewhere in there the boys have decided that they are close to finding their goal. However I refuse to take another step into those woods. I learned the hard way that biting things hide in the thick bushes of plants that grow in dark places. I didn’t stop itching for weeks after our last exploration of those woods. No, this time I will sit here and wait for them to return. Not that they would notice if I came along or not. They have grown tired of having a Mother to watch after them. They would probably prefer if I just returned back to my house. And I would.. if only I could remember where that might have been. Things have just grown a little fuzzy in my thoughts of home and where I left it.

Now that I think more of it. I can’t remember much of that place, or really if it was just a dream. Yes, I know there was a place before Neverland but as I reflect on this Home place I am finding that knowing the exact location of where Mother and Father are now is just as difficult as locating the Pirate’s treasure on another of Peter’s maps. I find this disturbing and I feel the urge to struggle and fight against this forgetting, but the lullaby of the breeze blowing through the trees and the songs of Neverbirds make remembering far too difficult to do. Maybe I should just let go…….

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