Blue.River.Apple.

Confirmation that I was to follow in my father's footsteps jarred me in ways I never imagined. Since hearing the news, I awaken between 3 and 5 in the morning. Zero dark thirty is when my eyes fly open and I'm full-on aware. The words that normally tumble off my tongue now flow feverishly by pencil over a yellow-lined padas though I am possessed. And I write. Poetry. It is through my stepping up, speaking out, and sharing my own very personal thoughts and feelings that will emancipate the stigma attached to the growing numbers of those of us relegated to a diminishing memory. It gives purpose to feelings of less than and bolsters a roguish stubborn ruggedness in me for a worthwhile fightto maintain dignity, honor and respect.

Blue.River.Apple. SECOND HARVEST A continuation of Alzheimer's through poetry covers the following two years of "how-to" wade in the salty dementia truth. It's not lofty or lightly, or unintended, but large, open to receiving and trusting that there is hope and help. It took a lot of "you got this, girl!" self talk to believe. During this time, Nancy's diagnosis changed from early on-set Alzheimer's to Mild Cognitive Impairment. Though a lesser diagnosis, she's not "owned" either title, simply saying she's been diagnosed. Nor has she felt a change in her behavior.Nancy invites you to follow her journey, and invites you to, "Please, hold my hand, feel, truly feel you are not alonebecause you're not." Nancy believes it is the love and service we give to others that lightens our own way.