He is like a shooting star: beautiful, but temporary. He isn't like all those other constellations in my sky, the ones that remain constant, the ones that I can look to every night for comfort, the ones that I can wish on. He flies across my field of vision, and I admire him, wishing I could travel to the ends of the universe with him, see the things that he sees, circle around the sun, touch the ends of the galaxy.

But those are wishful thoughts, thoughts that are only good as thoughts, and nothing more. I await his return trip, always, but I never know when he will return again. I never even know if he will, in fact, return. But deep inside, I know that, if he does return, even if he lingers in front of my eyes even for a few seconds, it really isn't because of me. He is a soul running free, going wherever he pleases as I catch a glimpse of him. He illuminates my night sky, bringing hope to my heart again, making me smileā€¦ but that is all unintentional. And, like a shooting star, he comes as quickly as he goes, with no vestiges in the sky proving that he ever existed.

Peter shall always be a boy, as it had been destined in J. M. Barrie's fairytale. He shall always be the boy of my dreams, the captor of my heart. He shall always be my Romeo, and I his Juliet.

I wonder if he ever thinks of me, if he remembers me, and if he has held true to his promise. I have been true to my word, and have lived my life as fully as I possibly could. I moved on to become a musician, performing at weddings and other occasions, and writing songs in my spare time. And I wrote this story. I became everything I dreamed I could be, without a care in the world for what society demanded of me. I adopted a daughter from England, and she, in turn, brought me the wonderful grandchildren I tell the story to every night.

These days, I do not fear death. I do not feel dread nor foreboding, only hope. I know that Peter and I will be together again, two souls flying free with the other stars in the sky. And when we finally land, we will be right where we belong: second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning.