Entering my mountain cabin, the home of my retirement age, the scent of sandalwood cheers me. After a long visit with busy relatives, I am grateful for the sanctity and aloneness my home offers. Peace enters my weary body and I feel my tired muscles relax. Familiar comforts surround me as I drop my bags and sink into my favorite refuse, a gingham overstuffed chair. From this respite I see the large picture window framing a familiar landscape where dreams are construed, and realize there really is no place like home.