Standing in the centre of the living room of this house I've polished from top to bottom in anticipation of your arrival, my heart beats fit to burst. I can barely catch a breath as I wipe the sweat from my hands on my apron and attempt to contain my excitement.
I have painted your old bedroom blue again, and bought a Spider-Man spread for the bed where I have left the gift I wrapped for him. The tag reads - 'From Granny' - I hope he likes it, as you would have done at that age. I hope he likes me. In all his seven years, we've never met.
Opening the door, I see immediately that you are alone. I smile and nod at the explanation as to why it wasn't possible to bring him with you on this occasion. I say I understand, and while you go upstairs to shower and change after your long flight, I take myself to the garden shed. I'll need a moment to compose myself; come back in and splash my face at the kitchen sink. All is fine. I guess I let my expectations run too high.