This morning I had a wonderful conversation at Marko’s with an older lady from Zagreb who owns a house in Motovun. We have known each other for years, but this was our first opportunity to talk for more than a few minutes. As soon as she sat down, which she did to rest a bit on her way to the hotel, where she goes to the wellness center almost every day, she told me that she had been reading a lot lately. When I asked her what she was reading, she told me that she finished rereading Marcel Proust only a few days ago. I was delighted, of course. Our conversation took a different tone at once. Having talked about many books we have both read, she told me a bit more about her visits to the wellness center. Somewhat overweight, she enjoys swimming there. This helps her with her walking, which is getting to be a bit of a chore as of late. In fact, it is almost painful to watch her walk. Bent to one side, she measures her every step. At some point I told her my year of birth, and she lit up at once. As it turned out, we were born the very same year. I assumed she was at least five years my senior, though. When I got up to leave, I felt a bit embarrassed by my untoward nimbleness. She, too, must have assumed that I was at least five years her junior. As I was walking away from our table, I made sure to walk as slowly as possible. Perhaps I also felt a bit less sure of my step.

Addendum (September 3, 2015)

The day I left Zagreb a week ago, I bumped into the son of the lady in question. In his forties, he is in great shape. He joined me for a chat at my table in one of my favorite cafés in the center of the city. Soon enough, he started talking about problems he was having with his mother. Her body is ever more frail, but so is her mind, as well. He told me point blank that he was quite worried about the future. At some point I told him the year of my birth, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. “Goodness gracious,” he almost shouted, “I’d give you ten or maybe even fifteen years less!” He was exaggerating a bit, to be sure, but he did not dare tell me that his mother was exactly my age, which I happened to have learnt from her three years ago. In fact, I did not dare mention it to him, either. At any rate, he will remember our chat for quite a while. And so will I.