At the quiet edge of the Glimmerwoods stood a willow tree with long, flowing branches. Its leaves brushed the ground like soft green curtains. This was the Forgetful Willow. The willow was very old. It had watched many seasons come and go. But lately, it had begun to forget. Some mornings, it forgot where its roots were. Some afternoons, it forgot which way the sun moved. And sometimes, it forgot its own name. One gentle morning, Pip heard a soft, worried whisper drifting through the forest. “I know I am a willow… but I can’t remember how to be one.” Pip followed the sound until he reached the tree. The willow’s branches drooped low, swaying slowly, as if tired. Pip placed his small mushroom hand against the tree’s bark. “Hello,” he said softly. “My name is Pip. You are a willow tree. And you are safe.” The willow sighed, a long leafy sigh. “I forget so much,” the tree whispered. “It makes me feel lost.” Pip nodded. “That’s okay,” he said kindly. “We can remember together.” Pip sat at the base of the willow. He spoke slowly. He spoke gently. “You are a willow,” Pip said. “Your branches are long. Your leaves are soft. You give shade when the sun is warm.” The willow’s leaves rustled. “I… give shade,” it repeated. “Yes,” Pip smiled. “And your roots are deep in the earth. They hold you steady. They keep you safe.” The tree hummed softly, as if the words felt familiar. The willow whispered again, “What time is it? Is it morning or evening?” Pip looked at the light filtering through the leaves. “It is morning,” he said calmly. “The light is soft. The birds are waking up.” The willow relaxed its branches. “Morning,” it echoed. Pip stayed with the willow for a long while. When it forgot again, he repeated the same gentle words. “You are a willow.” “You are safe.” “I am here.” Each time, the tree listened. Each time, it calmed a little more. By the time the sun moved higher, the willow’s branches swayed peacefully in the breeze. “Thank you, Pip,” the willow whispered.

This is a gentle space for dementia-friendly stories, created with care and shared slowly. These stories began at my dementia day centre, written with and for the people I support. They are shaped by real moments, conversations, and quiet joys. Alongside the stories are bracelets, made by clients — small, meaningful pieces of each story that can be held, touched, and remembered. There is no pressure here. You don’t need to comment, keep up, or read everything. You are welcome to move at your own pace, take what feels right, and simply be present. This community is about comfort, connection, and kindness. Thank you for being here and helping these stories be heard, held, and shared with the world 💛