Magical Neverland : Part 1

Do you believe in magic? Just like every child, I sure did, and my great-grandma had a huge impact on that. She could best be described as dreamy. I always had the feeling that she was never really here, in reality. Her memories were her life, even when she was still with great-grandad. Sometimes I wondered if she had even noticed that he had left. When she told me about the fantasy life she kept exploring in her head, I couldn’t really blame her. Adventures – one could never experience in the real world, powers – that speak against everything we know, dangers – dark yet intriguing and love – that one could only wish for. When faced with harsh reality, you do get lost in fantasy, right? I sank deeper and deeper into her stories when she was enthusiastically talking about it, staring into the air as if watching a film. The story went on and on, twisted, developed and I didn’t want to miss the next episode. Great-grandma Wendy went on, even when no one was with her. She had her clear moments, though. Sometimes she grabbed my arm, looked into my eyes and whispered the name of the boy who would haunt my dreams. The main star of her stories, her love, the boy no other man could ever live up to in the real world, because he was simply too enchanting: Peter Pan. 

“Oh grandmother, let go of her arm and don’t ruin the child with your made-up nonsense.” And there she was again. My mother. Ending the precious time with great-grandma as rude, heartless and unmagically as always. “It’s fine, we were just talking.” I tried to defend Wendy since she didn’t realize what was going on. “Maja, please, put on your coat, we are leaving. Great-grandmother Wendy is very sick, give her some rest.” She said bursting through the room, making sure to collect all of my belongings as quickly as possible so we could rush out. “But we just came…” I started, but was interrupted promptly by mother: “Not here, sweetie. We have to go. No further arguments in public, remember?”. “But who cares?” I stated, looking around. “We could be in the car already if you hadn’t started a discussion, so.” With a firm hand movement, she guided me out of the room as if I was some trained dog. Not a lucky one, but one that just listened because of fear. I waved a sad goodbye to Wendy, which she probably hadn’t seen. At least someone said the goodbyes, since mother didn’t even look at her.

In the car in front of the clinic that great-grandma called her home, I couldn’t help but ask what all that rush was about: “So why do we only have time for short visits?” I wanted to know. “As I said, great-grandmother Wendy is very sick. She needs her rest. Please, listen up, I hate to repeat myself.” Mother was focusing on the road, not even glancing at me. “But she gets a lot of rest. We are only visiting her for like half an hour, so she has the whole day to herself.” I argued. Mother was already starting to reach the next level of annoyance. “Your great-grandmother has mental issues. All that nonsense she is talking about, I don’t want it to confuse you.” Was she really worried about my mental health? With a heart as cold as ice, I found it hard to believe.