as the days slip by you will begin to forget more and more. Your terrible childhood during the war. All the beautiful gardens of Kyoto. The smell of rain in April. What you just ate for breakfast. Cream of Wheat, with sausage links and toast. The car accident, forty-three years ago, that killed your favorite cousin, Roy. You will forget the day you first met your husband. I was sure he’d be gone in a week. The perfect baby you wanted so badly. The damaged child that you got instead. All those laps you swam day after day, year after year, in the pool. You will forget the words for bicycle.
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Dementia pluses
