Being an old farm boy myself, chickens coming home to roost never did make me sad; they've always made me glad.

The thrill of coming home has never changed.

Sins, like chickens, come home to roost.

Home was truly the best place he could possibly be, but, alas, was not an available option.

The feeling of coming home has never changed. If anything the sweet and sour balance is now inclining more towards the latter...

One small cat changes coming home to an empty house to coming home.