Hello, Boy.

I found Peter Pan one day as I ran through Hyde Park. Sweat dripped down my forehead and my trainers squeaked on the path which had, of course, been covered by rain the night before. I did my best not to fall over myself as I slowed my run to a walk, and eventually stopped at his feet.

"Hello, boy" I murmured, smiling to myself. He was just as I pictured, glimmering in the early morning sun, the Long Water reflecting the light onto his face. A squirrel ran around his feet, gathering nuts and twigs, no doubt stashing them in a hollow tree nearby. I laughed as he ran up and down the trees, through the grass, obviously driving the fairies around Peter to distraction.

I decided to take a break from running and spend some time with Peter. Sitting down on the wet grass, i grabbed my feet and started telling him about my morning. Of course he was totally enthralled by my story: waking up at 7:00, grabbing an English Muffin to hold me over till I got home, tying my shoes on the stairs, then jogging down Palace Court until I reached Bayswater, only to be stopped at the light. "That's the worst," I shook my head. "I hate jogging in place, with all the other Londoners looking at me as they drive by." I sighed, "Oh well." I told him about the crocuses that were beginning to appear in Kensington Gardens, the swans on the Round Pond, and the dog that followed me all the way down to the Italian Fountains. I could tell he was really interested, but unfortunately, I had class to get to.

Peter's a great listener, though. He nodded in all the right spots, smiled when I told him the funny parts of the dog chasing me, and felt sympathy when I told him about the light on Bayswater. When I said good bye, he very quietly told me to come again soon, and I promised I would come back the next day.

I miss Peter; probably more than anyone I ever met in Hyde Park. It's amazing what one person can do for you. Quite often, Peter was the first one I talked to in the mornings. He was always there, faithfully, to give me a smile and a good morning. On sunny days, we would spend hours together. I'd bring my sketch book or some stationary, and he'd tell me about Neverland. On rainy days, which happened quite often, I'd hurry by to say hello, my green umbrella sheltering me from the drops. But I couldn't stay long.

I can't wait to go back and say hello once again. I'm sure he'll remember me. I know that Neverland makes you forget, but after all; we met in London. On a January morning in Hyde Park