My family meets me in Puerto Rico.
My daughter sees me standing at the doorway at the baggage claim at the airport in San Juan. Her face lights up, she yells “Dada!,” runs for me, and jumps in my arms. A few moments later little one and a half year old Rivka wobbles out and yells “Hi dada!” She hugs my legs. At the rental car station she roves around still yelling “Hi dada!” over and over, sometimes running across the place back to me to hug my legs again.
It’s been a couple of months since I’ve seen them last. I’ve been in Central Asia doing research for a new book. They really miss me when I’m away.
Something about this tells me that I’m at least doing something right.