A Shared Thread
A surviving handwritten draft of Mam’s Memories is reproduced here in her own hand. It is signed simply with the initials A.D.B.
A different version of Memories appeared on her memorial card.
Memories
I
As I sit by the window,
The rain’s falling fast,
Then suddenly the hailstones appear on the glass,
My thoughts wander back,
To those years long ago,
When I lived in a house,
Down by the lake shore.
II
With its thatched roof,
And its little red door,
The scent of the pink roses,
Yes, roses galore.
I can see it there,
As it was long ago,
When I did my skipping,
Down by the lake shore.
III
The house is still there,
Though a tumble down shack,
No light in the window,
No turf in the stack.
But to me it’s as dear,
As it was long ago.
When we all lived together,
Down by the lake shore.
IV
The years have gone by,
Yes two score or more,
Since I left
From that little red door,
The hens they don’t cackle,
And the cows they don’t roar
In the yard round the house,
Down by the lake shore.
V
And now I’m too old,
Too weak and too sore,
To go back for to visit,
My old home on the shore.
A.D.B.
After Mam’s death, I wrote Echoes in response to the different version of Memories that appeared on her memorial card, carrying some of its images forward from another shore.
Echoes
Now she follows in those footsteps,
Of the ones who have gone before.
Leaving the thatched roof and the roses,
And the house on the lake shore.
But I can hear the red door closing,
And their laughter by the stove.
There is a light in the window glowing,
As I watch from this distant shore.
It’s goodbye from this foreign shore.
And lights out from this Spanish shore.
