I don't own Mary Poppins/Returns.
The Place Where Lost Things Go
It had been 3 months since Mary's mother died. Mary was at the innocent age of five. Every night she asked her father the same question.
"When is Mama coming home?"
Her father, Mr. John Poppins would always sigh and answer,
"She isn't coming back, Mary."
"Why?"
John would have to explain death again to her. Instead of it getting easier, it had been getting harder. His wife was dead. His beautiful wife, Sarah was gone. He would never see her again.
But one night Mary was given a different response.
"When is Mama coming home, Papa?" Mary asked again.
He was sick of it. John was sick of it all. Sick of telling Mary that Sarah was never coming home. Sick of having patience with his daughter. Sick of not having Sarah there to comfort him. Tired of it all!
"Mama's never coming back! You'll never see her again! She's dead! Sarah Clermont Poppins is DEAD!" John screamed, throwing his arms into the air.
Little Mary backed down. Her lower lip was quivering. Tears filled her big blue eyes. She saw John looking into her eyes and looked down. Mary seemed ashamed of herself. John started sobbing at this sight. He covered his face with his large hands.
"She's dead… Sarah's dead… My heart… is dead…" John cried.
"Papa?" Mary's voice was wobblily.
John outstretched his arms. "Come here, Mary."
They held each other and cried for who knows how long? All that mattered at that moment was each other. Mary's tears had made a wet spot on John's shirt, but they didn't care. It was just a time to grieve for Sarah Poppins.
"Papa, may I ask a question?" Mary wondered.
"Yes," John said, "Of course, child."
"Where did Mama go? There must be a place where she went. Everyone goes places," Mary replied.
"Do you ever lie awake at night? Just between the dark and the morning light. Searching for the things you used to know. Looking for the place where the lost things go," John sang softly, " Do you ever dream? Or reminisce? Wondering where to find what you truly miss? Well maybe all those things that you love so, are waiting in the place where the lost things go."
"The place where the lost things go," Mary whispered, "What about the memories of Mama? Where are they?"
"Memories you've shared gone for good you feared. They're all around you still. Though they've disappeared. Nothing's really left. Or lost without a trace," John continued, "Nothing's gone forever. Only out of place."
Mary yawned. John smiled at her.
"Time for bed now, Miss Mary?" asked John.
"No! Go on," Mary replied, snuggling up to her father.
"So maybe now the dish and my best spoon are playing hide and seek just behind the moon. Waiting there until it's time to show. Spring is like that now far beneath the snow. Hiding in the place
where the lost things go."
She yawned again. John picked her up and stood.
"Time for bed now, young miss," said John.
"Don't stop!" Mary begged.
"I won't," he promised, "Time to close your eyes. So sleep can come around. For when you dream you'll find all that's lost is found. Maybe on the moon or maybe somewhere new." He looked at those wide ocean colored eyes again, "Maybe all you're missing lives inside of you."
John laid Mary on her bed. Mary snuggled up right away. John pulled the quilt over her. He handed Mary her stuffed bear which Mary took.
"So when you need her touch and loving gaze. Gone but not forgotten is the perfect phrase. Smiling from a star that she makes glow. Trust she's always there watching as you grow. Find her in the place where the lost things go."
As the years went by, Mary never forgot that song. She could never forgot her father's beautiful deep voice echoing such truths. When Mary found out that the Banks children had lost their mother, she knew exactly what to do.
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