This question will help you make the most of this moment...

What Alzheimer's and Japanese tea ceremonies taught me about staying present...

My Grandpa Hughes passed away nearly 20 years ago.

He had Alzheimer’s.

Irrational or not, I sometimes worry I’m headed down that same road.

When you carry that thought (especially for years) it changes the way you experience life.

It also changes the way you document life.

I journal. (actively since 2007.)

I make short videos from our family trips—Tokyo, Hong Kong, Koh Lipe, etc.

I hand-letter little frames to capture tiny moments I might forget.

I think often about this Japanese concept: ichigo ichie.

It translates to “one time, one meeting.”

Each moment is completely unique, even if it feels familiar.

There’s a quote I love about the tea ceremony tradition in Japan:

“Even though the host and guests may see each other often socially, one day's gathering can never be repeated exactly… the meeting is indeed a once-in-a-lifetime occasion.”

It’s not groundbreaking. But it is grounding.

It’s like one of those truths you hear in a fortune cookie that you discard immediately. But could change your life if you sit with it long enough.

This week, we visited my wife’s grandma.

She’s deep into Alzheimer’s herself.

Our daughters sang songs for her and a few other residents at her care home.

I didn’t expect to get emotional. But, wow, I freaking did 😭

I thought about Grandpa Hughes.

I thought about my parents.

I thought about what I’ll remember—and what I might forget.

Between this and the idea that this coming year will be our final year in Singapore,

I’ve been going back to this one question:

What do you want to remember about this moment?

Will documenting my life prevent memory loss? No.

Can I preserve any of this perfectly? No.

Will these things hold up like some personal archive? No.

But that’s not why I do it.

That question—What do you want to remember about this moment?—isn’t about permanence.

It’s about presence.

It helps pull me back from the future (where I tend to live), and anchors me right here.

In this one, unrepeatable moment.

Like last week.

We hosted our third annual cousin camp.

There were water fights.
Camp shirts.
Late-night homemade blackberry gelato.
Long conversations.
More love than I could capture in any journal, video, or frame.

But this question is about more than just the big events.

It’s about remembering that we’re living the glory days.

Right now.

And sometimes, we just need to be reminded that the car rides, dinners, bedtime routines, and even the struggles are all worth remembering.

Keep Asking,

Kyle