Dear Wendy

Dear Wendy,

Salutations and congratulations

Are in order

For today, you marry a man

A grown-up

Who will care for you

When you are old

And love you

When you are irritable

Someone who does not care

If you are pretty or ugly

Because he loves something else in you

That cannot be described

We do not know what that thing is

But we’re sure it’s very special

If it can make another person

Overlook all the horrible things

One becomes

As they grow older

And we’re certainly glad

You were gifted with it

Unfortunately, we will not be attending your wedding

For reasons that are interpersonal

In that, they deal with multiple people

In personal ways

That intersect

In hurtful ways

To some of those people

We’re sorry for sounding so aloof

But we don’t have real weddings on Neverland

Just ceremonies where pirates marry mermaids

And are then eaten by their new brides

As soon as they’re taken back to their bridal cove

Figuring out the in’s and out’s

Of proper, real-world wedding etiquette

Is not as easy as we hoped it would be

For one thing, you did not invite Peter

And we’re friends with Peter

But we’re also friends with you

But we haven’t seen you in quite awhile

Granted, we haven’t seen Peter either

But that’s only because after you left

He went up into the mountains

And started eating crows

And howling at the moon

--Not in a mischievous, boyish sort of way either

But in a truly primal display of desperation

And anger

We understand that you would not want

A crow-eating, howling wolf-boy

At your wedding

But since your departure was the reason

He became this way

We feel you should accept some responsibility for him

And his new madness

Perhaps by suffering through a toast

Given by him

At your reception

We’re sure it would be incoherent

And wildly inappropriate

As he now enjoys cursing in a manner

That makes even the bawdiest of the fairies blush

But shouldn’t something like that

Be your punishment for abandoning him?

Also, Mother Wendy—if we may call you by your old name,

We do not like this new man you’re marrying

Because he is new to us

And we would prefer you marry someone old

Not old in age

But old in familiarity

Someone who appears the way we thought the man you’d wind up with would appear

Back when we imagined what sort of man you’d wind up with

Even though that man was Peter

And even though Peter can never be a man

Because he cannot grow up

If the man you chose to marry

Resembled a grown-up version of Peter

We would be very happy for you indeed

And would consider attending your wedding

--Still in secret, because Peter would nevertheless be very upset

Even if you were marrying an older version of him

As things stand now, however

We simply cannot justify

Such an action

And we hope you will have compassion in your hearts for us

And that you didn’t order too many hors d'oeuvres

In anticipation of us traveling from Neverland

To celebrate your marriage

To this new man we don’t know and don’t like

Because of his new-ness

Dear Wendy, we are not well made for change

We do not age

We do not wrinkle

We do not have lumps and clumps of time

When our life is one way or another

There is no ‘This month I’m this’

Or ‘Last month I was that’

No depression

No malaise

No boredom

No transitional periods

No mid-life crises

And while we are curious about all those things

--Except for the malaise—

We also do not die

Or grow old

And so the sacrifice of our own

Personal progress

Is one we are happy to make

We’re sorry that sacrifice was too much

To ask of you

Dear Wendy,

We are sending along a wedding gift

In place of ourselves

And we hope it is satisfactory

It is a shadow

It is your shadow

For although you probably thought

You took it with you

When you left Neverland

All those years ago

In fact, it fell behind

As you traveled up into the sky

Past the second star

And into the morning

What you’ve had all these years

Lingering behind you

Was not a shadow at all

But the lack of light that’s born

When you leave behind those

Who remember you a certain way

And wish to keep you that way

In their hearts

You can put an awful lot behind you, Dear Wendy

But you cannot put it far behind you

You cannot create a distance from it

You cannot separate it

From who you are

We thought you’d like your real shadow

And we hope you’ll treasure it

The way we have all these years

It’s been our only reminder of you

The Mother who told us stories

And put us to bed

And lived in a little house

We built for her

Happy to be there with us

Never wanting to leave

The shadow hasn’t aged

The way you have

But it should still fit nicely

As nicely as anything can

That’s made of darkness

And distortion

Take a look at it every now and again

See how it stretches

How it pulls

How it goes all the way up your bedroom wall

Over the face of your new husband

And your lovely pillowcases

And your picture frames

Up onto the window

Where the moon comes in

And the city stands still

And a boy with feathers in his mouth

Hovers carefully

Wondering if he should ask

To come in