The ocean holds the memories of my mother
Marguerite Alexandra MacDonald of Victoria by the Sea
II.
The salt of her tears
of joy
of sadness
of elation
of disappointment...they bathe my feet as I walk along her edges
They christen my mortality, as I dive deep into her recesses
I am more because of her
III.
The jutting red cliffs embody the memories of my father
Richard Lea Howatt of Tryon Point
IV.
The iron of his will
of simplistic
of chaotic
of steady
of evasive
They colour my cells, and fill the edges of my bones with battle-scarred marrow
I am more because of him
