If I am ever told

that at first the dates and numbers and conversations

and car key locations will begin

to erode

and then my own home will become alien and terrifying

and then, ultimately, I won't recognize any of them,

not even her,

I hope I will have the courage

while I still have enough clarity

while I still have the strength

and while I can still know the reason that I'm crying,

to leave

before she is trapped into caring for me

as I recede back into uncomprehending infancy.

I will leave

on my own terms.

I will not crawl across the finish line

because I choose dignity

above all

and my last act of love

will be to liberate her from

me

while there is still life enough in her

to tend to the garden.