THE BUMPS (October 15, 2012)
On thumbs of both of my hands I now sport prominent bumps that I first noticed only a few years ago. There is no doubt any longer that they are growing, as well. The one on the right hand is somewhat more prominent, but neither of them can escape a sharp eye. Situated just below the fingernails and facing inside, they are growing from the joint bones. They do not hurt. They do not bother me in any way, either. But the bumps are clear signs of ageing, of which there are many already. Slowly but surely, I am growing older. Nay, old. And I am showing it for all to see. My gray hair is pulling back, my skin is sporting a growing number of dark patches, my double chin is ever more bloated, my belly is getting rounder, my spine is bending, my behind is shrinking, and now my hands are becoming disfigured by those funny bumps. To my surprise, only horns are still missing. They would round off the pretty picture quite nicely, for sure.
To Mila Drašković
Addendum (December 17, 2015)
Having come across this piece in one of my random searches of my writings, I was pleased to see Mila’s name in the dedication. She, her husband Branko, and their two daughters were an important part of my growing up in Belgrade. The story about horns comes to my mind often enough, and so I searched my writings for other pieces in which it is mentioned. To my surprise, I mentioned only once an old friend of my parents who once remarked that in old age one was spared from nothing but a pair of horns (“Horns,” August 10, 1995). Mila is not mentioned by name, though. And then I searched my writings for her husband’s family name, but without any success. Sadly, this happens to me ever more often as of late. I assume that I have jotted down many a story, as well as many a name, but then I discover that this is actually not the case. There are many gaping holes in my writings, and some of them frighten me in my dotage. How will I ever plug them up? Even worse, how will I ever discover all the holes that lurk in my writings? A hopeless endeavor, to be sure.