Most mornings at home start the same way.

The smell of fresh coffee drifts through the kitchen, with the soft murmur of CBC Radio or a farm show on TV in the background — a familiar voice discussing the news, the weather, or sometimes just the rhythm of retired life.

At 88, Dad moves slowly now — not because he wants to, but because sometimes Ol' Art won’t let him move any faster, and Ol' Al has a funny way of making time slip sideways. Still, he smiles and gets ready to make the most of the day.

“Come on, Jess!” he says to his best friend, our golden Labrador, who never minds the slower pace and is always happy to be by Dad’s side.

They walk the familiar path outside the house, past the coop where the chickens mutter and fuss, toward the buzzing dance of bees in the corner hive, tucked away near the strawberry and raspberry patches. Around the yard are bird feeders he fills with seed for the birds, who sing their approval — a sweet sound he never tires of hearing.

This is Arch’s happy place — built with strong, weathered hands and the quiet joy of someone who sees magic in trees, stars, dirt, feathers, and flight.

We are all learning to be patient, and so is the world he made — a world of wood shavings from projects (many now unfinished and untouched), lemon pie at family picnics, hours spent in the raspberry patch, and sunsets watched from the Adirondack chair out front, tea in hand, after a long day outdoors.

Dad may forget exactly when he traveled to different parts of the world, the name of an old chum, or even the answer to a question he asked two minutes ago. But what stays with him is his love of life — the highlights of those trips, his sense of humour, his ability to find beauty in small moments, and the way he still greets each day with curiosity and a touch of serendipity.

Alzheimer’s (Ol’ Al) is a thief, no doubt. But it hasn’t stolen Jesse’s patience, Mum’s gentle strength, or our determination to do whatever it takes to support them both.

I’m participating in this event to raise awareness and funds for people like my dad who are navigating life with dementia. Every step is for more understanding, more support, and more hope.

Miigwech/Thank you for whatever donation you can make. No matter how small or big, you are making a difference in the lives of people affected by dementia. Select the button on the right to Donate Now!

Miigwech, Miigwech, Miigwech.

Jo