I am sitting in an airport in Las Vegas, waiting for a plane that is already two hours late and may in fact be much, much later.

I am contemplating my life (and my navel) and finding that wherever you go, indeed there you are. And home sweet home may not be reached by a click of the ruby slippers, but instead by that incipent weapon we all love to hate: the cellphone.

I can do Quest business anywhere, anytime as long as I have my little black flip-flop. First call came at 6 a.mm Nevada time, two followed at 7:17 and 7:19, then 8:30 and 2 p.m. Creesha called three times while I was in the cab on the way to the airport. I was reminded that indeed you can run but you can't hide. And indeed the question always is, do you want to?

Lately I've been thinking a lot about retirement. I am, after all, moving rapidly toward the age of 67. All my high school buddies have joined the golf crowd and spend a lot of their spare time sending home-baked goodies to their grandchildren.

But four days away in the posh, plush enviorment of Las Vegas left me antsy, and like the old fire horse, I hear that siren and I am ready to respond.

What's happening with Teepha's apartment? Did my godson's fever go down? And where the hell is their health insurance anyway?

Creesha's pregnant and high risk, is she eating right? Walking enough?

Has John found that job yet or is he going to give in and get disability?

What colors are we painting the new site?

Is U still alive and on the streets? Has anybody been arrested? Shot? Been in a fight? Fallen in love?

Rachel 's baby just turned two; has his seventh operation taken? How is Rachel handling all these new and frightening obligations?

And then there's G; has her son returned? Is he still on the street? What is going to happen to that tight little family? Mom going blind, grandson retreating backwards to his early status as a crack baby with anger and misery ruling his small life. Only 4 and already a lifetime of not enough anything!

And Amelia, a special little girl in Roger Hall's unique program for gifted students, how much longer can her family, who struggle everyday to survive, keep up the extra burden of bringing her to those amazing classes and programs that will finally bring her to the gates of a full-fledged college education (with a full scholarship, if you please)?

And what about J? Living on the run, 15 years old, who comes by Quest from wherever everyday because he's worried about me, and always, in front of everyone, gives me a major hug and asks "Are you sure you're OK?" And joking that now he's taller than me.

Everywhere I travel on these streets, I see my family: black, brown, white and all colors in between. A multiplicity of shapes and sizes, some leading a real life and others just getting out of prison. And all saying in one voice "Do you remember me? You practically brought me up. I tell my kids all about you."

And driving through this dirty sad conflicted city, I hear their shouts. "Judy, hey Judy, you still open? I remember ..." and then all their memories of Quest come spewing out. And I feel so needed, so loved. What could compare to that? I would be so bored, so lonely.

One of my kids once said "She needs us to stay alive." More than that, I need them to give meaning and joy to my life. I need them to keep on keeping on.

QUEST is a community-based organization that provides a safe environment, free meals, counseling, art and recreation programs that keep Hamilton Hill children in school, out of trouble and on track for better lives. For more information on QUEST, visit www.questkids.net.