Emilia walks through the front door as if she lives here, a smile on her face, a ceaseless bounce in her step. She’s more bubbly than usual, trotting over to my dad and offering one of her natural embraces. “Hey Emily,” he greets her. “Mr. H,” she chirps, trotting over to me. “Steven, you ready yet?” “Nearly. I’m guessing you are,” I say as I hug her one-armed. “I could hardly sleep! I had plenty of time to pack.” Her arm...