Maria comes out of the house, looks from me to the cookies to the bucket in my hands.

She says, "For goodness sakes, Pete, chase that girl!"

"I . . . Umm . . ." I scratch the back of my neck nervously. The words won't even form so I can say that I cannot chase you.

Because here's the truth, Wendy: Maybe I'll never be ready for this. Commitment. Responsibility. You. Maybe it will all be too much for me, always. Maybe I was never meant to grow up.

But here I am. And Maria is staring at me. She repeats, "You go after her, Peter."

You've always chased me, Wendy. Following me to Neverland, finding me here on this farm. Sure, I've found you a few times - but it's never like this. Never when it matters, and never do I actually face you.

You were even the one to kiss me.

And I don't know if it's me thinking about this, or about Maria's beady eyes still focused on me. But I start running. And running.

Until I catch up to you.