Mary Poppins felt the wind change as it had done for the many years prior. Mary had floated up to the sky a little teary-eyed. No matter how many times she left the children, she felt a piece of her was missing. Yesterday had been her 35th birthday. She had always been a little sad that she herself, "practically perfect" Mary had never been married, let alone had any children to call her own. Sure, looking back, she had always wanted to-with Bert especially; but, her job would never permit it. The cloud was slowly moving above the rooftops of London. A note dropped out of the sky, falling slowly towards the cloud. It landed lightly next to Mary, hardly noticeable. It was written in exquisite penmanship

Mary,
We have decided your time with us has ended. You must go into the world and find yourself. We all give you our best wishes.

Mary read the letter twice. What was she to do? They couldn't take away the best years of her life and leave her with nothing to show for them! She knew no one; she had no money, no place to stay. Uncle Albert had died a few years ago, and who knew where Bert was these days. Oh, how could they do this to her?

The cloud started moving again. On the way, Mary noticed the smoke billowing out of the trains traveling. The cloud traveled for a while to, what looked like, York. The sky had become dark. The clouds formed a staircase that ended right in front of a little cottage. There was smoke billowing out of the chimney. She peered through the lead windows into a well lit room. There were three children sitting at the table doing, what appeared to be homework. She saw a man turned around fiddling with something in the fireplace. She wondered why they had sent her here. She thought she was done being a nanny-that is until she saw the man stand up and turn around to see how the children were coming along on their homework.

Mary gasped.

It was Bert!

She immediately felt relief wash over her, but as soon as she felt at ease. She realized that wasn't the Bert she knew. The Bert she knew was a chimney sweep who painted lovely pictures on the sidewalk in London. Not the Bert who lived in a cottage and had a family-one he should've had with her. She knew it was a bad idea, but she stepped up the steps to the door and knocked softly 3 times.

"Knock, knock, knock." She stepped back, smoothing down her dress, fluffing the ends of her hair.
Bert walked over to the front door, which he opened. When he opened it to reveal Mary, he froze. He though that this couldn't be happening. It couldn't be Mary. But, oh, it was.

"Hello, Bert." Mary said politely.

Bert snapped out of it.

"Ma-Mary Poppins? My, my, my. Still as beautiful as I remember. It's been such a long time!" He said
kindly.

"I know it's been a while. I'm very sorry about that."

"I know. I have just missed you so much!" Bert said and stepped forward quickly and wrapped Mary in a hug, startling her. At least she thought it was a hug-she'd never permitted herself to experience one. Sure, the children would always run to her, but she'd always change the subject like, telling them to clean up their rooms, or a quick trip to the park was in order. She stood awkwardly in his embrace, then relaxed. She moved her arms up and wrapped them around Bert-tightly. She loved the feeling of being hugged-especially by Bert! Oh, but she couldn't be thinking like that. He has a wife and a family.

She pulled back.

"Bert. I have some news."

He looked at her puzzled. His arms still around her.

He stepped back, dropping his arms, allowing them to part. He motioned for her to come inside the house.

"Father? Father? Who was at the door?" One of the girls shouted out from the other room. Bert led Mary into the other room. His hand on the small of her back. Even with this little touch, it sent chills up her spine.

"Girls, I'd like you to meet one of my oldest, best friends. Mary Poppins." He paused. The girls all said "hi."

"Mary, this is Emily, Kate, and Catherine."

"Well. I am very pleased to make all of your acquaintances." Mary said.

She paused.

"Where's your mother? Slaving in the kitchen I bet. Your dad never was that gifted in the kitchen." She said laughing.

There was an awkward silence.

"Ah, Mary. My wife Sarah passed away about a year ago. Now it's just the girls and I."

"Oh, dear. I'm so very sorry!" Mary said, internally kicking herself.

As much as she hated to say this, but she realized things were shaping up.