I can hear the chirping of the birds in the trees. They are in the distance, but the sound fills every corner, every tree, every blade of grass, every petal, every drop of dew, that sits in the fields where I stand. I look around and all I can see are slope after slope of hills. Little villages are clustered in the valleys that dot the whole area around me. Birds of prey dance through the sky above, hovering and then diving for their prey. It is a wonder to see, a wonder to hear. I imagine the deer behind the trees, afraid to step out in case I see them, yet I know they are there. Cows and sheep graze in the distance. Horses gallop down the hill as they make their way to the stables. Farmers sit on their tractors working the fields. It is picture perfect. It is my happy place. Peace, silence, beauty. This is our world. This is the world I love to live in.  Far away from noise, danger, anger, fear. A world of kindness, welcoming hands, love, smiles and friendship.

Modern life bulldozes our dreams and demands our attention, our time, our whole day. Social media blinds us and robs us of the time we can spend in my painting above. Yet, we let ourselves be washed down this rapid river, this current, dragging us over sharp boulders, rough ground and the exit to the vast sea of nothing. An empty sea, where fish barely survive because of our selfish ways of existence. We try to grasp a branch to safety, but the velocity is too much, and we cannot hold back, we must let go. Or so we believe.

Yet, this gorgeous world remains. The quietness, the tranquillity, the stillness. They are there, inviting us, waiting for us. Our heart shuffles our feet towards, our soul yearns. Our mind pulls away. Why, why?

As I turn towards, I take another glimpse, maybe my last. My heart races with excitement as it is filled with the soft sound of chirping. And then, it starts to slip away. I know I am losing you, my happy place, my beautiful world. My feet will not turn, my body will not turn. Help me, please. I want to stay. Yet, the scene is disappearing, I am losing you, I can barely see you anymore…just one last try, one last push as I try to reach out. My arms do not move, my feet keep walking. I am losing, I am losing, I am trying…but you are gone. The last moment, the last glance. My eyes are totally clouded. I cannot see you anymore. I …I …have lost you.

As my feet keep walking, the grass turns to concrete and the chirping turns to noise, to the whirring of the engines, the blaring of horns, the shrills of voices, the clanging, clinking, screeching, and my head is thrown into shock.

And now I ask, what is the world of dementia. When a person sinks deep into this go to place, what does he see? And a person without dementia, what does he see? Are these worlds the same? Are they entangled into one? Are they pieces of a jigsaw? Are they a dense concoction of life’s experiences?

I really would like to think that a person with dementia walks up those slopes of green, of serenity and calm, of sheer wonder. I hope that their go to place is inside that photo that fills my memories and my life. My happy place, their happy place. I pray …and I hope.