We had the opportunity to take in “Mary Poppins Returns” this year. It was a delight. I couldn’t help but realize there was a story behind the story. Someone in real life, a long time a go, found themselves in financial stress, and a Chimney Sweep and a magical Nanny appeared to help them cope.
Take the movie “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” for example, a fellow who daydreams to cope with his reality. This is another movie worth seeing, if at least to help you identify why and when you ‘walter’.
After Face-time with my grandchildren, who live approximately 671 miles away, I began to daydream or ‘walter’. How I could accept their invitation to tea when they lived so far away? Well I can’t tell you what happens next but in May of 2019 you can read it for yourself.
Thanks to Word Alive Press (Publisher) and Desiree Tomkow (Illustrator).
Speaking of ‘story behind the story’, this is me reading before I could write.
We drove through a frosted postcard, with trees dressed in their choral gowns, and the mountains draped in evergreen. Fresh streams hung frozen from rock faces creating tears of teal glass, and white woolen snow on winter’s breath, swirled and danced around us.
It was the day before Christmas Eve, and we stopped for the night at an Inn. There was room for us. The snow was falling hard, and rather than peer at the magic through our room’s window we bundled up and went in search of wrapping paper. Neither one of us had our winter boots on, and our shoes were disappearing in a foot of snow. When we reached a recently shovelled sidewalk, we slipped and slid as if on skates, from the ice beneath the snow’s crust. But it was peaceful, and dark except for the streetlight’s glow and winter’s gift.
We purchased our paper and trundled off back the way we’d come. Distant hums and whines of snowplows and sanding trucks lulled us to sleep, and thankfully bad dreams of closed road signs were not to be realized.
At morning’s light we drove further, and deeper, and higher into the magic of winter, with anticipation of something far greater than the wonder all around us – the wonder of a child, two in fact.
At times our tires crawled with the crunch of the snow beneath, and at times our engine purred as we descended mountain tops. We reached the Ferry at Horseshoe Bay early Christmas Eve, and quietly ached for a place on board. One by one the cars started rolling forward. We were near the end of the line, and we held our breath.
Moments later we had crossed the Straight of Georgia, and were surrounded by one of God’s most miraculous gifts – our children and grandchildren.