Peter Pan Syndrome – “never grow up” – that’s the name we’ve assigned our ailment. It lies mostly dormant. We wake up in the morning, shower and dress ourselves, go to work. At night we cook dinner and take out the trash. We pay bills, write to-do lists, talk about the future, sometimes even make the bed. It’s as if we are real grown-ups. But there’s nothing like a vacation to agitate the condition.
We spent most of the first week of September in Park City, Utah on our annual trip with Gregor’s parents. In cooler weather it’s a bustling ski town and the site of the Sundance Film Festival, but in the quiet summer months it becomes our Neverland.
We went to the zoo and the Miners’ Day parade, raced wheeled sleds down alpine slides, stopped in every deserted tourist trinket shop and filled bags with arrowheads, fool’s gold and polished stones. We scrambled over mountain peaks chasing teepees, adorned ourselves in feathers and masks, and played like lost boys.
Vacations are strange creatures. One day I’m weaving wildflowers through my shoelaces and debating whether I’ll wear a floral crown or a feather headdress. The next I am waking up early, putting on sensible shoes, going to work, paying bills… You could almost believe it never happened, except that the to-do lists have grown longer.
And there are pictures.