An Ode to Mary Poppins

Dearest friend,

On a sad or sick or lonely day, I reach for the remote and a warm blanket. Sometimes on these days I lay in bed with hair that needs to be washed and a house needs to be tidied. Other times I make a pallet on the floor with glasses that need to be cleaned and errands that need to be run. Today, it happens to be almost all of those said scenarios. I crawl onto my couch, only this time adding luke-warm chicken noodle soup and wrinkly work clothes to the picture. The volume is up. The lights are dark. The credits begin to roll, and the overture plays.

I wait.

SPR Photography

As I anticipate her confident shadow in those hazy clouds, my mind begins to wander to times unknown. What will I be? How much will I make? How will I get there? Will I be happy?

When her parrot umbrella and carpet bag finally appear, I know my dreams are saved. And maybe I’ll be saved too.

Perhaps I’ll be a zookeeper or a nanny myself. Maybe I’ll be a banker or businesswoman. Or maybe I’ll move to a place where they have tea each afternoon, occasionally on the ceiling. A place where you can be anything, and everything is possible. Even the impossible.

My spirits soar in hopes that I can turn my daunting future into a spoonful of sugar. A future full of afternoons that are always jolly and mornings that always feel like holidays. Perfectly peaceful, ever-exciting, sweetly sentimental.

As the movie plays on, I find myself wondering when I’ll walk past that person in need. The ping of guilt in my chest grows into a large storm cloud, and the rain of regret begins to pour over all my hope. I’m reminded of the parts of my heart that worship success and money and fame. The parts that desire to climb the ladder for myself rather than to hold it sturdy for others to climb. I start to wonder how many needs that I’ve abandoned…how many hearts that reached out only to be left unnoticed.

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SPR Photography

When she says that my forward and attentive gaze only costs tuppence a bag, I know there is hope for me yet. Hope for a new season, a new dream, a new mindset. With a forward gaze to see others, it seems I won’t just be happy, but I’ll be full of renewed purpose. She helps me see that the only thing that will matter in the end will be if I cared, not if I was promoted.

As the finale approaches, I wonder if the wind isn’t the only thing that has changed.

Have my intentions not changed?
Has my perspective not changed?
Have my dreams not changed?

Indeed, it’s all changed. All thanks to the woman with the talking umbrella who taught me to feed the birds.

I am saved.

Sincerely moved,

Becca