It was late one night, at Via Tevere, I a fiftysomething feeling seventy, and you a firftysomething returning from your mom's surgery in Montreal, stopped to share your fortysomething youth and a meatball with me. I, a stroke survivor, could not even blurt out my name or to say thank you, for the meatballs and or making me feel fortysomething for an hour. Since then, I haven't seen you, which means I will have to wait another lifetime to say thank you.