Anyone who has lived alone for a long time will understand:

When I got married, I started ringing the doorbell. My door. My flat door.

To the very door she had always opened with a key, ever since the first day she moved in. Of course, there was a bell, but hardly anyone ever used it.
У мамы были запасные ключи.

And no one else came to see me.

I was home by nightfall. The neighbours were convinced that I was working as a "call girl". I would arrive late and different men would bring me in.

The men were indeed different. Taxi drivers...

And I was working as a "removal editor". I would crawl in tired after work and fall face down in bed. What kind of clients, I mean guests? I was used to the fact that no one was waiting for me at home.
Некому было открыть дверь. Только кошке. Но она не умела.

I didn't suffer much in this regard, to put it bluntly. I got used to it and was quietly happy: good - no surprises, peace and quiet. What else do you need?

So I got married and suddenly, among other pleasures, I discovered another one: ringing the doorbell. My husband was working at home. So when I came home, I rang the bell. Sometimes it happened several times a day.

Tirlin-tirlin.
Tirlin-tirlin.
Tirlin-tirlin.

- Why are you taking a man away from his work? - Mother was indignant. - You have the keys!
– Ты не понимаешь. Это такое удовольствие, когда тебе кто-то открывает. – говорила я.

I was lying. It wasn't just pleasure. It was happiness. Knowing that there was someone waiting for you behind that door.

Tirlin-tirlin.

Hearing footsteps, seeing the key turn in the lock, the knob click...

Tirlin-tirlin.

To see the joy in your eyes, the smile, to realise that one person is very happy and missed you, even if all you were doing was going out to get bread.

Tirlin-tirlin.

If you haven't lived on your own for a long time, you don't know anything about it. Sometimes my husband would open the door quietly, take my bag from me, help me out of my coat, hug me, and rub his stubble on my cheek. Sometimes he was in a hurry, he was on Skype, so he would make eloquent signs with his hands, give me a quick kiss on the nose, and run off to continue his work.

But that didn't change anything. I was already as excited as someone with chronic tonsillitis finally getting my hands on ice cream.

The main thing is that not once, not once did he get angry, he didn't freak out or even ask:
- Did you forget your keys?

It was as if he knew it wasn't about the keys.

And so it was.
And so it remains.
So it will be.

I wish you only two things - health and to have someone waiting for you at home.

The rest is up to you to dream it up and get it done.

I'm sure.