Wendy Moira Angela Darling,

We rarely use your whole name any more. Mostly you heard it as a little girl—whenever you and Nana would get into mischief. In those moments your father and I would call to you with your full name and with a stern tone.

Tonight you got into the biggest mischief of all. And yet I write your name softly and with love.

Tonight you travelled to an unforgettable island. An enchanted place, bursting with impossible adventures with lost children, mermaids, a clock-filled crocodile—all of which were true. But the biggest truth of all tonight is knowing that the power of the pixie dust doesn’t come from Neverland.

It comes from you.

How can I know? I, too, flew with Peter Pan when I was a young. And I want to tell you our secret. It is not Peter who brings the magic. It isn’t even Tink.

It is you.

Do you remember the moment just before you flew? You closed your eyes, breathed, and believed. And do you remember all of the bedtimes I read to you the story of Pan? And the countless other times you’ve read it to your brothers? It was you who believed. It was you who had the pixie dust within her. Without it, Peter never could have found you. The window would have remained latched.

It seems impossible now, but your memories of Neverland will blur and fade. I know mine have. As you grow, life pulls you away from the window.

And so I want to give you this tiny gift. A simple token. A thimble necklace for you to wear close to your heart. To help you remember. It is not a gift to help you remember Peter. Or Tinkerbell or Tiger Lily or Captain Hook. It is a gift that is bigger than Neverland.

It is a gift to remind you that you are the magic. You are the one. It is you who holds the needle and thread. It is you who can sew a beautiful life. It is you–always and forever.

Your father and I wish for you a life full of pixie dust. A life in which you stitch together impossible realities, grand adventures, the best kind mischief, and love.

We love you, darling Wendy. It is a love you may not fully understand until you are tucking in your own daughter and reading to her the adventures of Neverland.

Until that time, remember our love. Remember that you are the magic. Remember to fly. And remember to open the window. Through it, all things are possible. Just look for the second star on the right, and go straight on until morning.

I love you so, my Wendy Moira Angela.

Mama Darling


{ This is the second time I have had the fabulous opportunity to dance the role of Mrs. Darling in Peter Pan. A few years ago I began writing letters to Clara in my role as her mother in The Nutcracker. Here’s a link to the letters from this year, last year, the year before and the original. }

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