In my last post, I referred to Elena as "the perfect houseguest."

This phrase, not a phrase I remember writing before, is part of my DNA.  Have you ever noticed how words will pop up from somewhere in your deep brain and you think, "That's so-and-so talking!"?

In this case, it was reminiscent of something my own grandmother might have said: "Linda was a perfect guest" or something like that.

I used to spend a week with Mimi and Papa every summer and I remember so much about them and things they said to and about me, all good and kind, as they were.

When I was three, it was reported to me later, I had a hard time not talking in church, and Mimi suggested we leave.  "No," I said.  "I stay to church with Papa."

Elena is a different kind of perfect, braver and more raucous than I was, way funnier.  She loves to wash dishes and gets water all over herself and the floor.  I imagine Mimi might have said, "Honey, I'll wash those, you can go and play with Papa."

When I said, "Elena, you are getting water all over my clean floor!" (as if I cared), she said, "I don't care!" really loudly, in a joking way.  She knows she's funny.  I can't help laughing at her, which makes me more of another kid sometime that a grown up.

She put her foot up to her ear like a telephone and said, "Hello!" and that brought about my best laugh of the weekend.

She fixes up her bed in the guest room, then sleeps with me--in the middle of the bed, legs spread from one side to the other.  She wakes up and tells me her dreams--always funny--dreams, which I've not quite slept soundly enough to have.

Though I'd just gotten the house cleaned the day before she came, she managed to move stuff around so that there was barely a spot left the way it was when she arrived.  We had two forts in two different rooms and quilts borrowed from both beds to make roofs. On the porch, we had building blocks, a big bottle of glue for our glue party, two hula hoops, and a big basket of markers.

There is horse food in a bowl on the floor still filled with plastic beads.  And a bowl of water on the floor--where her imaginary dog drank real water.  Half-drunk glasses of milk and cookie crumbs are everywhere.

 I'm keeping them there for one more day--reminders of a girl who brings this house to life in a whole new way. I miss her when she leaves!