Helen...

I just had the nicest visit. Carl, one of our subcontractors, stopped by to drop of a project he had been working on for Juan. Great guy from Hungary, a brilliant mind, retired, and still does odd jobs now and again for us and others too to keep his intellect, more than his hands, busy, and more often than not--to my delight--he brings with him his wife, Helen.

Helen is a lovely elderly lady from Scotland, full of stories--we could chat all day--and a real hoot! She is a realist, been there-done that, pragmatic, and very funny,
and just a bit forgetful (says the doctor gave her some cholesterol pills a few years back that he soon took back--"We have been told these can affect your memory".
Each visit goes something like this:

In her darling Scottish accent she whispers as she peeks her head around the corner, "Well 'ello there! Are ya busy? Would it be alright if I sat with ya and talked for a bit?" "Yes, yes, of course, please come in! How have you been?" "Oh, I'm fine. I'm always fine. Oh, looky there--what a beautiful painting--where do ya think that is?" I smile knowing where the conversation is headed--"Italy, Lake Cuomo, I'm pretty sure. Looks like it anyway!" "Oh 'ave ya been then?" "Yes, a long time ago. But I'm pretty sure it still looks the same. So pretty isn't it?" "Ay! Very Pretty indeed!" She begins to wander around my little office and comment on the pictures I have scattered about here and there, but today was suddenly different--she perked up and said with concern, "You won't be gettin in trouble for visitin' with me now would ya?" I smiled again and said, "Oh no worries there--I know the boss!" Then, the funniest thing--"Oh, do ya? Which
one would that be then--the dark haired one in there that Carls talkin to?" She is so precious--"Well, actually, I am the boss. The dark haired guy in there, my husband Juan, works for me." Her blue eyes flew open and she said, "Your mar-eed to Juan? I had no idea!" I giggled and said, "Mmhmmm, see behind you, that's him in the picture there, us with our kids." In complete surprise she whipped her head around, "Oh looka that--there he is!" Then, after putting the pieces together, "So you work for your husband then?" I winked and corrected her, "No, my husband works for me!" She saw the humor in my eyes and said, "Good for you lassie, you keep that boy in line then. You know what? I'll help ya! I'm gonna sit here and talk with ya all day now! Hows that sound?" I cracked up, and for the next 30 minutes, my lassie ears were filled with great stories of Scotland, the true home of this gem, my friend, I knew as Helen. After awhile, Carl came by, "Sorry to break this up ladies..." "Well, we're then. Cheerio!" I got up, gave her a warm hug and responded in my best Scot accent, "Cheerio!" "Good girl!" I always feel a bit sad when she leaves, and then, I remind myself, she'll be back admiring my painting again before I know it, and I feel happy again.