"Every time a child says, 'I don't believe..."

Rexburg, Idaho
February 8, 2011

"The old friend"
I went to visit an old friend yesterday. I was tired of doing homework so I decided I was going to pay him a visit. He lives close to my apartment but I rarely see him, or think of him anymore. However, every time I see him, I am glad.

I'm always impressed how big and neat his house was. He told me once that his wife "keeps everything very tidy and she has strict rules about how or where everything goes." She wasn’t here today. She wasn’t here last time either (in fact, I've never met her, weird.)

"The bookshelf"
The first thing I've always noticed every time I enter to this old man specious living-room is his big bookshelf. He had a huge wooden bookshelf. It was taller than me, and I am quite tall. And it also was wider than me, but I am not really wide, so that comparison does not quite apply.

The bookshelf had hundreds of old books in it, books of all shapes and sizes. Books I haven’t read, but heard about.

“Have you read all this books?” I asked.
“No,” He answered.
“So, why do you keep them here?”
“Because I hope some day to read them all.”
“That’s silly, I said, I mean, it’s cool that you want to read all this books, but… What are you going to do with them when you are done?”
“I don’t know… put it back to the bookshelf?” He said looking up to the top of the bookshelf, it really was a very big bookshelf. “Yes…” he continued, “I’ll put it back to the bookshelf, and then, when someone asked me again if I read all this books, I’ll say proudly: Yes, yes I did”

I read some of the titles of the books he had on my eye-level stand. While I was going through them I noticed that all of them were children books.

"Children books."
"They are all children books!” I exclaimed surprised.
“Well yes, yes they are.” He said indifferent.
“Why do you wish to read children’s books?”
"Why do you ask?" He asked back, replying a question with a question. (Which I find annoying, by the way)
“I don’t know,” I said, “Aren’t you a little old to wish reading fairy tales?”
“Why Hernan?” He asked, “Don’t you believe I Fairies?
"Haha, though sometimes I do wish they were real..." I confessed, "...I d..n't"
“Don’t say it!” Cried out he, puzzling me. "You see children know such a lot now, they soon don't believe in fairies, and every time a child says, 'I don't believe in fairies,' there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead."
“What?” I asked confused.
“Yes…” He said with a worried face, as if he indeed was warning me of the awful consequences of denying fairy life.
“Are you quoting a book?” I said suspicious, “Yes! You are quoting a book! Which book was it?" I asked browsing through out the room.

"The table"
He looked at me, then he looked at an old-looking wooden table next to the window.

Seating on the old-looking wooden table there was this green...ish book with golden inscriptions that read ‘Peter & Wendy'

I grabbed the book and with an accusatory look I said, "Peter Pan? Haha (I laughed) For a minute there I thought you would fly out off the window. Seriously"

He laughed, no as if he was making fun of me or of my gullible-ness, but as if he was pleased about himself.

“That was funny, you almost got me.” I said again.

"Did I" he said.

The book
All of this just to announce that I'm now reading "Peter Pan." A book that my old friend told me to read to "find myself," and that my mother once told me not to read.

I recall she saying, "You have the tendency of getting lost... Now if you get lost in Neverland, how can I ever going to find you again? and I know you wont want to come back..."

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