When John and I were first married we had a ritual for homecomings. When I drove up he would come out to the car and escort me in. It was adorable. 

Mind you it was unrealistic to keep it going, as life became more complicated. I mean how often can you stop what you are doing just to say hello? 

As the kids got older and came back from college we made ten foot paper Welcome! signs to drape across the driveway to break through. Cell phones made it easier to time it right. 

"We are two blocks away," came the hushed undercover sibling.

John Gottman suggests that the daily reunion of couples is prime time for rekindling affection. The moment of face to face after a long day is one of potential tenderness.  

This week John drove our daughter to the train en route to the airport. The weather was blustery and cars were sliding all over the road. Fortunately Hosanna's car has four wheel drive and they arrived safely. Except that the car also locks automatically. So when they got out and tried to open the back for her luggage, they couldn't. Stomping their feet in the snow they weighed possibilities. They called AAA but there were so many stranded cars it would be two hours at least. She could get on the train without her suitcase, and John could ship it. Expensive. They could ask me to come from home except that I had no spare key and the idea of me driving in the storm was comical. If she missed the flight a new one would run her a few hundred bucks. They decided to break a window. 

John is not a violent man but perhaps there is a mischievous boy inside who thrilled at the idea of whacking the glass with a metal trash can lid. He closed his eyes and swung. 

It bounced. He tried harder, but nothing happened. Meanwhile Hosanna checked online and discovered that her departure time had been moved back two hours due to weather. Maybe the AAA option would work after all. It turned out that their rescuer arrived in twenty minutes, and slashing their best guesses had the door unlocked in sixty seconds flat. He had enough of a back log he didn't even pause to check her I.D.

Life resumed at a clip. After a hasty hug she bought a ticket and John headed home. 

And because I had just read that article I stopped what I was doing to greet him with rapt attention. He recounted the entire adventure for me, and I hugged him again. 

It was a sweet reunion.