I remember her.
Before the business suit
And the computer
And the constant conversations about numbers on the phone,
She was Elise,
Running through the sunflower fields
And the dewdrop grass on a Sunday morning,
Balling up the snow to send it over our heads,
Those times when she spoke so fast her words ran into each other and tumbled together in a growing heap and she would fall down and laugh and laugh.
When she built spaceships from cardboard
And forts from snow?
When she could bring life to the roots of a plant lost to fire
And a smile to the face of any that saw her?
Here she is,
Constant conversations about numbers on the phone.
All grown up.