My dad was over for dinner last night. Just pizza, nothing fancy. Ava was running around, doing her own thing, while my dad and I sat and talked in the living room.
When it came time for him to leave, I asked Ava to come over and give her grandpa a hug. She refused. Then she ran up the stairs without saying goodbye.
“That’s OK,” my dad said. “I’ll get her next time.” I opened the door for him and then watched as he walked, alone and huddled against the cold, to his car. I was suddenly painfully aware of every time I’d ever refused to hug one of my grandparents when I was Ava’s age. I was upset with Ava, but I was more upset with myself. And upset that I’d never get to give those hugs now.