One　evening　we　all　hustled　into　the　car　to　drive　to　a　Christmas　party　at　the　home　of　family　friends。　We　were　a　little　behind　schedule　because　my　mom；　sister；　and　I　had　gotten　home　late　after　spending　a　long　day　writing　checks；　signing　charge　slips；　and　bringing　hysterical　grins　of　joy　to　the　faces　of　local　merchants　at　a　nearby　mall。

My　mom　looked　across　the　front　seat　at　my　dad　and　said；　“Whew！　What　a　busy　day！I　feel　like　I　haven’t　seen　you　in　a　week！”

My　dad　grunted；　checked　the　rearview　mirror；　and　changed　lanes　at　something　approximating　the　speed　of　light。

My　mom　reached　over　and　twirled　a　lock　of　my　dad’s　hair　around　her　finger。　“I　know！Let’s　look　at　each　other。　For　just　a　minute。　In　the　eyes。”

My　dad　responded　this　time。　He　groaned。　“Honey；　I’m　driving。”

“Ten　seconds。　Five！I　haven’t　seen　you　all　day。　I　need　to　look　into　your　eyes。　Are　you　ready？”

He　shook　his　head。　“I　can’t　look　right　now。　We’ll　have　a　wreck！”

“At　the　next　light。”

At　the　speed　we　were　traveling；　we　hit　the　next　red　light　in　no　time。　And　sure　enough；　holding　hands　across　the　front　seat；　my　parents　turned　and　gazed　into　each　other’s　eyes。　“Hi；”　my　mom　said。　“Hi；”　my　dad　said　warmly　back。

Then　the　light　changed；　the　gas　pedal　hit　the　floor；　and　the　race　was　on　again。　Nothing　had　changed；　and　yet　everything　had　changed。　Most　of　all；　I　was　silently　moved　by　what　I　had　witnessed：　a　small　harbor　of　reconnection　in　a　raging　hurricane　of　activit