Author's note: I haven't been on this site in years. But having watched Mary Poppins Returns 7 times now, I really felt the urge to write a little drabble for it. That said this does contain spoilers for the new film. So if you wish to avoid those, please hold off on reading. I hope you enjoy!
"The children have packed up the last of their things themselves." Mary Poppins announced as she followed the three downstairs. Sure, she'd helped a little, snapping things into boxes and suitcases when Michael and Jane weren't looking, but for the most part, the family had done their own packing the last two days.
"Then we've spent every last minute we can here," Michael nodded looking up as his home. "Goodbye, old friend."
Everyone else's gaze followed, other than Mary's, for she was focused on the family themselves.
"Goodbye, old friend!" Jane encouraged the children to repeat. The house meant little to those kids, Mary Poppins knew. Yes, they'd grown up there, but what mattered to them most was their family. Not where they lived. And seeing the look on Michael's face... Mary Poppins knew he finally understood this and felt the same way.
It'd taken longer than she'd hoped, for now all this packing had gone to naught. Still, what's done was done. They'd simply have to unpack again. As soon as Georgie remembered his kite. Which would be at the exact moment Mary Poppins wanted him to.
Putting ideas into people's heads? What nonsense.
Mary was paying little attention to the goodbyes from the neighborhood, after all, they weren't meant for her, so why should she care?
"You won't leave us, will you Mary Poppins?" She heard a quiet voice and glanced down before rolling her eyes. Yes, she would, but not quite yet. Her purpose had not yet been fulfilled.
"Don't be silly," she scolded, tipping her nose up in her usual fashion.
"She said she's not leaving until the door opens," Georgie reminded his siblings, and Michael knelt down and hugged them, looking up at the uncanny nanny.
"Anyways, your home is with us," He reminded her.
Mary Poppins startled at that, though it didn't show. Sentiment. It was pure sentiment. And for a brief moment, she found herself muddled. For Mary Poppins didn't have a home. She flitted from one family to the next, fixing things just like her cousin.
Only, she didn't fix Royal Daulton Bowls. She fixed lives. She pieced them back together, one by one, never paying attention to her own. And she never stayed in one place for too long for fear, not of overstaying her welcome- no, who would want her to leave?- but for fear of becoming too attached.
Mary Poppins was sneaky, yes, tricky, blunt, sometimes downright rude... But she wasn't a liar.
And 27 years ago she'd answered an advertisement saying she met all the necessary qualifications.
'Love us as a son and daughter.'
And she had. She'd loved those children dearly, as if they were her own... Though she'd never admit to that, even to herself. She'd felt more at home in that family than any other. And that was why she'd left without saying goodbye. Why she'd have to do so again. She wasn't meant to have a home, but the Banks were the closest thing she had to one.
Home was a sentimental notion. Having a place to live that had an emotional connection with your life. And practically perfect people never allow sentiment to muddle their thinking.