Neverland

five

My feet were light and quick on the pavement as I rounded the corner.  The familiar burning in my chest trickled down to my shins.  Cold air whipped at my exposed face, causing the tip of my nose to numb and my eyes to water, the droplets freezing to my cheeks. Despite the discomfort I felt physically, my mind felt clear and replenished.

The sun was nowhere to be seen, smothered by the blanket of white clouds that veiled the open sky. What a dreary day. I needed this though. I needed the therapy of running. It was about pushing all of my worries into the asphalt with each step and letting the cold air travel in and out of my aching lungs, bringing new life, and it was about letting my thoughts run just as free as the legs beneath me.

I could see the tall and old white house about a quarter-mile up the road. Something about it was different than the rest of the homes on the block, but I could not distinguish what that difference was.

My eyes remained locked on the roof as I neared. Why did we have to train on the roof?

I loved solving mysteries. As frustrating as they are at times, they are even more enthralling. That roof and this house and the book and Harry were all different aspects to the complex puzzle I was trying to solve. If nothing else, it gave me something to do, kept me busy.

I plowed through the front door, which creaked even louder than the others. As I entered the foyer, a blast of artificially heated air stung my frozen cheeks and I was immediately enveloped in a delightful smell. There must have been something roasting in the oven. I removed layers of clothing and hung them on the coat rack.

"How was your run?" My mother peaked out from around the corner.

I gave her a thumbs up, unable to reply due to my heavy breathing.

She smiled warmly. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head and her cheeks were rosier than usual. She was wearing her trusty old apron; the lavender one embroidered with green vines and small white flower petals. The apron took me right back to my childhood.

I remember lightly tugging on the stiff fabric of it as she stirred a large pot, indicating that I wanted a taste. She would smile and lean over, carefully blowing on the spoon before I slurped up the flavorful broth. My mother used to love to cook, but she lost interest once Leo got sick. She lost interest in a lot of things though.

To be honest, her cooking was never exactly spectacular to begin with, but I missed seeing how happy being in the kitchen made her.

I told her I was going to take--what I hoped would be--a hot shower. The water heater in this house was not very reliable.

She nodded and told me that dinner would be ready at seven. I smiled as I climbed the steps. It was nice to see her in that apron again. It was nice to see her in that smile again as well.

Fortunately, the heater pulled through just enough for a brief shower. The lukewarm water felt hot in comparison to my frigid skin. Once my body was no longer a block of ice, I stepped out and layered myself in the warmest clothes I could find. I threw on an itchy oversized sweater and a pair of grey sweatpants.

Most of my clothes still needed to be washed from the nightly sword fighting lessons with Harry. My mom had made a big fuss about all of the clothes in my hamper, pulling one of the sweatshirts from the heap and saying, "I have never even seen you wear this, Waverly. I am not washing it."

So I would have to wash them all myself, but I still had not gotten around to it; hence the reason I was stuck wearing such an uncomfortable turtle neck sweater that was so loudly patterned Bill Cosby himself would be envious of its style.