Identity Crisis
Your services are no longer required.
The counsel had been clear. It hadn't been a complete surprise; Mary knew her time was coming to an end. Yet, she hadn't been prepared.
She had known that her vocation as a nanny would only last so long. They could not expect her to do it forever, although she wished she could. That was not for her to decide; that was for the counsel. And they had made their decision.
Handing over her bag and umbrella, she had received them back, only to find her bag had a bottom and her umbrella was no longer sarcastic. Which may have been due to the fact he couldn't talk at all.
Mary had spent her newly found time helping Uncle Albert, refusing to mope in her bedroom, for Mary Poppins did not mope. However, even with her magic abilities left, not being around children was beginning to take its toll. She missed it more than she could say.
What she'd do for one more day where babies would scream in her ear, nurseries would remain untidy, and mothers would tell her that she may as well get the groceries while she was out.
Who was she if she wasn't Mary Poppins? But as a dear friend told her one night, sitting atop a chimney stack, she was Mary Poppins. She simply wasn't a nanny. And in that sense, she was no longer indebted to her duty.
"I mean, you'll always be Mary Poppins, o' course," Bert said, feet swinging back and forth as they dangled over the edge. "But I guess that gives us more time t' plan the wedding, you no' being a nanny and all."
Staring out into the star-strewn sky, she supposed he was right. In her distraction, she had forgotten the very teachings that she often lectured to the children. Endless possibilities were there for the taking and she was finally given the chance to have a life outside of her work.
If she wasn't herself, the world was knocked askew, but she wasn't worried. Mary Poppins always knew how to make the world right again.