Heartbeats and Mary Poppins Bags

It was like drumbeats heard from a distance.

The kind that reminds you of mountain peaks and eternal skies...

And since you're trapped inside four walls, the only places you could look to are the faraway, amber horizons in your own mind...

Its amazing how the sound of a heartbeat can command the rest of my world to complete untainted silence...

And then just as wonderfully blow it all away...

Like a feather against the breath of a secret whisper...


When I was little, I used to watch Julie Andrews play Mary Poppins over and over again on VHS. How she sat on wind-blown clouds between travels. How she carried witty conversations with the parrot-head on her black umbrella. How she conjured staircases out of chimney smoke so her wards could explore the evening sky while dancing to "chim-chimeny, chim-chimeny, chim-chim-cheroo" and then come home covered in chimney soot and still look elegant.

Now, there is something of a Mary Poppins in every woman. For one thing, there's the Mary Poppins Bag. For Julie Andrews it was something that looked like a carpet from where she magically pulled out tape measures and lampshades and, i think, trees. For my own mother it came in different forms, most of which were the size of the cushion seat from our living room couch, came in bright vivid colors, and had the name of a drug company or other printed down the front. But that's not the point. Like Mary Poppins, she always pulled out everything we needed from that bag: chips, candy, bottled water in the middle of a long drive; an extra pair of undies on a camping trip; a small pillow; nail cutters; band aids; Betadine; paper towels; puke bags; and usually, the ever reliable cure-all Vicks, to name a few. As a kid, you never ask or even wonder how they know exactly what to bring. You just run to the car and whatever adventure with nothing but complete and utter trust that the Mary Poppins in your own mother would never fail you.

A kikay kit. A roll of mints. My celphone, almost out of batteries. A wallet containing nothing but some letters, my licence, my blood donor card, faded receipts, and some coins. A bunch of keys. A pink lighter. Candy wrappers from long ago. A pocket utility knife. And some used and abused notebook with all my jibberish scribbled into the worn pages.

Those are the contents of my bag right now.

Dear Lord.

Not even a gummy bear to pose as the least indication of any possibility of my being anywhere near the area of being motherly.

Is it something you just do out of instinct?
Are we all genetically engineered to know when to pop in a bag of Chips Ahoy instead of a can of Pringles?
Is there a school somewhere I could major in the arts of Mary Poppins-ness and get a diploma?
I couldn't even do a proper pork-chop dish and I'm as handy in the kitchen as someone who burns rice with a rice cooker.

...

How depressing is that?

...

But yesterday was a reality trip.
The kind that changes you forever.
Just a heartbeat.
And I know I will overcome any obstacle just to make sure it keeps beating.
You think you already love someone more than life itself, and then God gives you someone else...
And you realize there's more to love than just loving one person.
That loving another could make you love the person you already have even more than you thought possible.
And it doesn't matter if you're a master chef or a complete klutz.
It will change you into someone you never thought you could be.
Like a Mary Poppins, perhaps...

I'm not about to snap my fingers and make toys tidy themselves up.
And let's postpone the conception of that Mary Poppins bag for a while.
For now, I'll relish in the sound of my faraway drum beats.
The kind that reminds me of my amber horizons, snow-capped mountains and eternal skies...