“On the way home I was mugged and hit my head and got amnesia. I don't remember anything that happened before yesterday. I found your address in my wallet. I couldn't remember my name. I still can't. Let's go out and get new ones. My treat.”

“I couldn't remember if I thanked you for what you did," I tell her. "And I can't get you out of my head.”

“I went home that day, and I wrote your name over and over on a piece of paper. I must have written it a hundred times. My mom found the paper a few days later in my sock drawer. She wanted to know why I'd done that..."I wanted to know why more than anything I'd ever remembered wanting, but a part of me hoped he'd chicken out."I told her I liked the way your name made my heart jump.”

“I have found it very important in my own life to try to let go of my wishes and instead to live in hope. I am finding that when I choose to let go of my sometimes petty and superficial wishes and trust that my life is precious and meaningful in the eyes of God something really new, something beyond my own expectations begins to happen for me. (Finding My Way Home)”

“What... what are you doing here?"He's shaking his head as he walks my way; a steaming coffee mug is in his hand."What am I doing here? I live here.""Y-you do? How did I get here?"He starts to laugh. "You don't remember?""No... I really don't."He places the mug in front of me. "You called me on your cell. I found you spaced out of your mind in an alley behind the bar. You were talking to a cat. You claimed it was your mother.”

“What’s outside my head and what’s inside my head aren’t worth mentioning. What’s worth mentioning is what’s on my head – my hair. Whatever happens, I’ll still be as fashionably coiffed as I was before the war broke out and I got dementia.”