Most of the old ladies in Motovun are a joy to talk to, but one of them takes the prize. She is always in excellent spirits. Short and stout, she giggles and laughs with ease. Whenever we happen to meet on Gradiziol, where she lives, we exchange a few sentences in Italian, which she manages much better than Croatian. It was thus a joy to meet her in the grocery store this morning. “Tutto a posto?” I asked. “Ma si,” she replied with a big grin, “tutto a posto!” There were several people in the store, and lively banter started at once. At some point, the woman working in the store asked the old lady her age. Past a certain age, it is a matter of pride to be both old and well. “Seventy-five,” she replied with another big grin. “Hey,” I jumped in, “a young woman!” But I changed the subject at once for fear that my age would also come up next. Judging by her looks and her gait, I assumed the old lady was at least a decade older than she actually was. In fact, she is a bit too close to my own age for comfort. Even she would be crestfallen if she learned that we were not far apart in terms of our year of birth. By comparison, I look and walk like a youngster.

Addendum (December 28, 2015)

As it turns out, I got fooled in the store several days ago. The old lady who said she was seventy-five is actually past ninety. She may even be ninety-five by now. This is what I learned from the woman who works in the store this morning. They often joke about the old lady’s age this way. Anyhow, I got fooled for true. Soon enough, we will be laughing on my account. And I do look forward to seeing the old lady again and telling her about my folly. Word for word. Tutto a posto, my ass.