I was sitting on the chair in my bedroom at the end of the day and Daniel skipped in looking like he was about to be up to something.
The other chair in my room was precariously close to a side table which was dangerously close to the bed. To add to the excitement, I was rearranging my entire upstairs because we had been sick for a month and I was stir crazy. I had a fever–cabin fever. So, in addition to the normal places to jump to and from, Daniel had an additional would-be adventure: a stack of plastic storage bins.
The chair was piled high with pillows and blankets and right in front of it was the stack of bins. He looked at me, and he knew. He knew I was too tired to stand up. He knew that he could climb on whatever was in the room and it would probably take me at least 30 seconds to stop him.
Thirty glorious seconds!
He began his ascent. First to the bins and a jump to the pillows and blankets on the chair. There he was, perched high atop a mountain of fluff. He was right. I wasn’t stopping him.
Daniel took a moment to survey his kingdom. Glorying in the unexpected freedom brought on by my exhaustion, he looked mischievously at the side table and the bed. A quick hop and a jump and perhaps a small flight would land him onto the bouncy surface of what he declared was his pirate ship in the sky.
Still unable to move or speak, I sat and watched him, weighing the possibilities of him missing the bed and landing on the floor. The odds were in his favor. I felt like he was going to make it.
As he got ready to jump, his little sister wandered in. Seeing him on his way to the pirate ship without her was too much.
“Wait for me!” she said in her most adorably bossy two year old voice.
Daniel looked at the pirate ship, then at me to see if my energy was coming back, then at Jayne. He was hesitant. Jayne, after all, is a girl.
Jayne started to climb up the plastic bins, which Daniel had arranged stair step fashion. In no time, she was at the chair, attempting a lopsided ascent to the top of the mountain.
“I want to go on the pirate ship, too!” she said, as she struggled.
He sighed and went back. I don’t know if it was because he thought the hopping and jumping back to the chair would be fun or if he was just being kind to his sister. It was probably a little bit of both.
He reached out his hand and said, “C’mon, Pirate Jayne!”
“Thank you so much!” she said, and then, very grandly, “I am not Pirate Jayne! I am Princess Addie Jayne.”
“Okay,” he shrugged, nonchalantly as he pulled her up to the heights.
He held her hand tight and said, “C’mon, Jayne! We’ll fly to the ship!”
And as I sat on that chair, I couldn’t help but think about that faith, trust and pixie dust and that little boy who will never grow up, and how two is the beginning of the end, and how glad I was that I was too tired to tell them no, and that I got to see him holding her hand…
And I was in a place where there was no time, and Heaven engraved that memory into my heart where it will always and forever be…a perfect moment when two of my loves were innocent children holding on to each other as they flew across my room to Never-Neverland where pirate and princess could laugh and fight and battle Captain Hook and crocodiles and make friends with fairies and sail away on ships in the sky…
And I felt like Mrs. Darling, as she put her hand to heart and cried, “Why can’t you remain like this forever!”
And I thank the little star that shines, the second from the right, for allowing me to catch a glimpse of Neverland when I need it, through the eyes of my little Lost Boys and my Peter and my little darlings….