My mother, Mary was born in Maddox Cove, Newfoundland. Mom loved the Cove, the setting, the way of life there with her family and the people. She left home when she was twenty-one, to board and work in St. John's.
However, Mom was rooted in the Cove and, to her last day, she kept alive the stories of her life there. If ever there was a person who was formed by her home, family and friends, it was Mom. Her hard working nature, sense of humour, love of life, family and spirituality were a product of her family and life in the Cove.
This poem is for our granddaughters, Mom's great grandchildren, Sylvie and Caitlin.
The Cove
Her name was Mary
She was from Maddox Cove.
And for twenty-one years
She didn't rove.
Mary loved her home town
The people as well.
She had lots of friends
And the stories did tell.
The school house had one room
And kids brought the wood
To stoke up the fire
As all children should.
She played by the ocean
Where her father would fish.
His name was Gus
And grew veggies to dish.
Life there was hard work
And fun, don't you know?
Music and lancers
Were often the go.
Mary spoke fondly
Of her little place.
And even when older
Memories kept apace.
What would she wish
For someone like me?
To find my little cove
Where life is so free.
Marie Pretty Smith
2 comments:
What a lovely tribute to your Mother. Sylvie and Caitlin are so lucky to have you to relate stories about her and her life.
Thank you, Aunt Marie. I guess I received the storytelling gene too. I wish my memory was as good as yours.
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