When someone you've been close to for a long time loses memories, so do you.

In the years that followed, Norma and I would each accommodate and respect the other's “parallel loves.”

I'm not much of a singer, but I remember lyrics by the thousands.

I can lead Norma to water, but I can't make her drink.

I rambled on about the sophistication and majesty of those songs that still move us.

Now her head moves left to right as if she's taking it all in, page after page.  

“Let's go. Let's go,” she urges. I wonder if she's dreaming.

It's true that nearly all my waking hours are spent caring for Norma—and that ain't easy. But it's also true that I have enormous advantages most caregivers don't.

There are too many surprises left.