A few minutes ago, I was looking in my computer down the corridors of old files I had forgotten about and came upon a poem about Mom apparently written on the eve of Pat's wedding, that I'd abandoned and forgotten about. It is not a great poem, but something about it rang true. I'm just posting it on an impulse.
Elvera - at the Milenium
At fourteen she was lent out to an uncle to pay a debt
Scrubbing floors, cooking, ironing clothes.
At sixteen after the flood and the failed farm
She was made to quit school to support her family
Her dreams of being a teacher washed away
Like everything else the flood had taken
And in its wake came seven children and ill health
Months waiting for her husband’s ship to come home…
The night before her grandson’s wedding we play dominoes
Son, granddaughters, daughter-in- law, friends
Their fingers soft with wealth, no match
For her stubborn persistance.
She laughs at a bad hand,
Saying no one should win every game.
But waits until we gain our confidence
Then coming from behind, plays the winning score.
No one beats her.