11/10/2025
tiny journal: Dementia Is a New Way to Be Buddhist
Kelli Russell Agodon
Today my mum said she doesn’t remember
arriving at my house with a dishcloth,
doesn’t remember me telling her
my kitten stayed overnight at the vet,
that I’d be coming over to help with bills.
What she remembers is now.
She knows her memory is a ship
leaving port without permission,
her memory is a cloud she can’t hold.
When she asks, Why is everything so hard?
I say, I don’t think you’re the only one
asking that. When I say, I have trouble
with loss, she says, We are all leaving.
She adds: I know I won’t be around
much longer. So I ask her
what she’ll come back as? A pig, she says,
then laughs. I tell her I can’t imagine
seeing a pig and having to say,
Oh, there’s my mom! She smiles
and says, Then maybe I’ll return
as a hummingbird. Another conversation
in the present. Another conversation
I will remember alone.
Where does this take you in your journaling?
