Me and Mr. Pan

 

In the mid 1950’s. Peter Pan was a kid and so was I. After my pain and healing from the broken bones
my alcoholic mommy had given me, I made it to four years old with the help of the German Shepard
that she tied me to and left us outside while my brother and sister were in school. When the weekends
came, I got the closet for being too loud and playing in the house. With no food or water after my tears
were gone, I did not care anymore. That is when I meet Peter. He talked to me and told me stories and
the two days flew by. I was not born with the imagination that I possess. I guess I can thank my mother
for the severe P.T.S.D. that made me this way. Peter was always there with me in the closet. When I
turned five, he was gone. He came back when I was twelve in 7th grade in Issaquah during the big earth
quake. I was in an 80-year-old building 3 story building made of bricks. The school was built over a coal
mine. During the quake, the school building that I was on the third floor dropped into the ground as the
coal mine collapsed. The stairwell on the north side collapsed. All the kids and the teacher were under
their desks. I ran out in the hall only to be stopped by my old friend Peter. He said Kirk there is no time
and you must help me. The only stairwell left was about to collapse Peter and I held it up from
underneath while all the kids got out. Wonder if I will ever see him again. My friend Peter Pan.

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Copyrights Kirk Graves