You have been welcomed home. There's a wreath on the door, crystals that shine even when it's cloudy. There's a fire inside, you can see the smoke coming out of the chimney. A light is on. You do not know who is home or what they are doing - maybe reading - but you do know you'll go inside.
You don't knock, why would you? This is your home now.
The first thing they say to you when you walk through the door?
Lay down your troubles.
And you do. You lay them down, suitcases of suffering you leave at the doorway. They disappear as you walk towards the kitchen.