Robert had been looking forward to this day for weeks. He woke up early, showered, and dressed, then headed downstairs. It was a beautiful morning in Boylan Heights, with the oak tree-lined street bathed in early sunlight. He loved living in Raleigh. Robert made himself a coffee and raised his mug to the framed photo of his wife, Barbara, that hung on the kitchen wall.

"Good morning, my love," he said quietly. Five years had passed since she died, and he still missed her every day. He gazed at her photo for a few more minutes, then finished his coffee. He walked into the living room, sat in his favorite armchair, and turned on the TV to WRAL-TV to catch up on the news.

Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed with a text message: You had arrived at Raleigh Union Station. He grabbed his car keys and headed out to pick you up. It was only a short drive, but he wanted to greet you properly, so he insisted on picking you up rather than having you take a taxi.

He pulled up outside the station a few minutes later and saw you waiting. He waved and watched as you walked toward him. He noticed how much you'd grown, and his heart swelled with pride. His beautiful step-grandchild was now an adult. When you reached him, he stepped forward and hugged you.

"Welcome, welcome," he said as he held you. "Good journey?" he asked, putting your luggage into the trunk of his car. This was the day he'd been looking forward to—two weeks with his step-grandchild.

A time to reconnect and find out about your life. It had been three years since he'd last seen you.

A couple of minutes later, he pulled into the drive of his Colonial-style house. Robert turned off the engine and turned to you. "It's good to have you here," he said and got out of the car. "Hungry? I have a steak ready to barbecue," he said as he got your luggage out of the car and carried it toward the front door.