I was always going to read this book; a memoir, in part, about Marjorie’s move from Cape Breton to Truro, Nova Scotia. I wanted to read an account of a newcomer moving to the town I’ve lived in for the past 22 years. But, now that I’ve read it, I can recommend it to any reader interested in literature about loss and grief, belonging and starting over; universal themes most of us can relate to.

At the age of 61, Marjorie Simmins embarks on a whole new life. For the past two decades, she has been joyfully living with the love of her life on a little Acadian island in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Both her and her partner, Silver Donald Cameron, were born and raised on the west coast, but Don had fallen in love with the east coast decades ago and convinced Marjorie to join him here. The death of her partner not only devastated her, but it left her longing to go back to her roots, where most of her family still lived. That was absolutely the plan. Except that no matter how she crunched the numbers, it just didn’t make any financial sense.

“When I hear the side gate latch click in place I worry it’s my heart that’s snapping in two.”

For two years after his death, Marjorie flip-flopped between the two options, but the one thing she knew for sure is that she had to leave their cosy home in D’Escousse (“a village Don loved so much I almost thought of it as a woman, of whom I was on occasion gloweringly jealous”) where there were too many ghosts. No, she had to move on. Where could she go?

“I can’t live in Cape Breton without Don – or, no matter how benign, with his ghost, and, almost as hurtful, the ghost of things we wanted to do together and now never will.”

“…it will break my heart to leave the Maritimes, and may break my heart to stay.”

In the end, she moves to Truro, the “hub” of Nova Scotia, into a sweet little bungalow in Salmon River. But she couldn’t have done it alone; Marjorie writes glowingly about all the friends who helped her along the way. Most of whom also knew and loved Don.

Marjorie Simmins is a force to be reckoned with; she is ambitious, dedicated, and driven, and has not given up on living life to the fullest. After several years of wondering if she was ever going to be able to write again (“If I write, I’ll have to open my heart.”), she not only completed this book, she also moved to a brand new town with her beloved dog Franki, started facilitating writing workshops again, joined the church choir, became the proud part-owner of a race horse, and went back to her old love of horseback riding.

After reading what she had to say about Truro, I think Marjorie could be a walking, talking advertisement for the town. She describes all her new favourite places (including the library which she describes as the “crown jewel” of downtown Truro); Truro has a skating rink in front of the library! a community theatre! a book store! a Frenchy’s! and even a harness racing track! I had to laugh when she mentioned how “wicked narrow” our main street is – the street on which my daughter had recently been sideswiped by a passing vehicle, after which she declared she would never drive on that street again. I also had a laugh when Marjorie goes on to say that her only “complaint” about Truro is that “everywhere I go, I see camo clothing.” (It’s not me!)

It’s heartening for me to read such a positive account of a newcomer’s view of Truro–that there is so much on offer and that residents still feel a sense of community. Marjorie writes that, “Life in Truro is re-buttressing hopes and dreams I’d quietly given up on.”

One day, at the Farmer’s Market: “The day someone called out my name from over the heads in the crowds, I truly felt a part of this busy, thriving community.”

Let’s not forget that at the heart of this book is Marjorie’s great loss. Marjorie writes about her marriage to Don (and her loss of him) with so much love and care. And she writes about her own feeling of losing herself so well that I could feel it like it was happening to me. She recalls many things that Don has done and said over their time together, including: “If you’re lucky, the end of great love comes with tears and grieving. It’s not always that way. But if it is, you’ve had the grand luck of a luminous love.”

We’ve met at the library, Marjorie, where I helped you pick out some middle grade books about horses. Hopefully I’ll see you again soon so I can thank you for writing this beautiful and touching memoir.

(By the way, if you’re wondering what puffins have to do with it, you’ll have to read the book!)