Home.

On the evening of the twentieth I stood in the airport with friends waiting for my sweetheart to come down the escalator. His flights got messed up because of the weather, so he ended up getting standby to arrive around 7 pm. It was difficult to stand and wait, looking at the unfamiliar faces as they descended slowly toward the mass of people waiting at the bottom. At last my boy appeared at the top. Our friends cheered and I slowly walked over to him at the bottom of the escalator, tears starting to run down my cheeks. We hugged tighter than I remember ever hugging before. Then he lifted me up in the air and kissed me. Then we clasped hands and began walking happily toward the exit. One middle-aged couple I will always remember. She was crying and her husband was clapping and thanking John for his service. We smiled at them and thanked them back. The drive home I just kept staring at him, afraid I was going to wake up. We kept hugging and crying. I'm so glad he's home. I missed him so much.
Miles rejected poor Johnny however. Much hissing and growling has gone on. But, finally today the kitty has warmed up to John a little bit. We've just been talking and talking. Showing each other music. We watched Kung Fu Panda. We cried more. We've been relearning each other a little bit. It's been wonderful. We're going to put up our Christmas tree and watch Iron Man (he hasn't seen it yet) tonight. And just hold each other and keep holding each other and let the world melt away.
I'm really really happy.