The children immediately hug their father while his wife tearfully looks on.
“I’m coming home.” It sounds like the person speaking can hardly get the words out fast enough; like there is a breathless anticipation of good things. It tells me that the traveler is done with roaming. There is a time for traipsing about, and a time to come home. When I set down my bags after a long trip, I have no intentions of picking them up again, at least not right away.