There's a revolving door around here with my name on it . . . I have come limping back, crawling back, oozing back, and once even just yelled, "I'm home! Where's the peanut butter and bacon?"

What did Frost say? Something like, "Home is that place where, when you know you've got to go there, they've got to take you in"? `They' have always taken me in, no matter how worn their patience might be. And when I overcame my shame of, as I saw it, once *again* letting them down, enough to raise my eyes to theirs, there was nothing but love and acceptance waiting for me.

All that matters is you're here now. Herein lies sanity (of a sort), peace, health, survival, healing, hope. Hold on tight.