She was swaying against a street post after she had held her cane up for traffic to stop while crossing Rue Bonaparte.
I asked her if she needed help, and she looked up with tired blue eyes, “Yes, please, with my bags,” she said in French.
I gathered up her purchases, astounded at how heavy they were and tiny she was. She held on to my arm, and we walked a few small steps until we sat on a nearby bench, so she could regain her breath.
She told me she was 92 and had just arrived back from Provence the day before, so she needed to get groceries. She asked what I was doing in Paris and reminisced about some of her adventures, how she had been married to a French playwright and poet, partying in the circles of Picasso and other artists and writers of the 40s and 50s.
“La nuit va tomber,” I said, after about 40 minutes. “We should get you home before it’s dark.”
As we neared her street, she asked if I liked rum. “My favorite drink is here — it’s so delicious,” she said in French. “Would you like to join me?”
Her face lit up with the prospect of the cocktail. I was rushing to meet a friend in an hour across town, and looked down at her excited face.
“Oui,” I said.
She ordered her favorite drinks — what looked like two piña coladas when they arrived with a wedge of pineapple on the side of the rims, and the manager came to greet her.
We talked more of her time in Paris and what I was doing. “C’est une aventure,” her smile stretched wide. She took out a pen and paper, and we exchanged phone numbers, and then I walked her to her door a few blocks down.
There are times in life when people unexpectedly cross your path and leave a spectacular mark.
The fearless 92-year-old Parisian with her zest for spontaneity and her warm smile over a piña colada at La Rhumerie have touched my heart forever.
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