“Daddy, we forgot to dance!” Gauri teased me as the elevator started moving. I blinked out of my reverie. “Let’s fix that right away.” Within seconds, we were moving. Gauri, with effortless rhythm and teenage cool; me, with the grace of a malfunctioning windmill. Still, those thirty seconds of joyful chaos visiting Gauri’s college campus were worth the entire trip. This wasn’t our first elevator performance. The tradition began years ago, on a weary evening after a long hospital visit.