Not the destination — the return. After everything: war, shipwrecks, monsters, a decade of suitors in his hall. One island. One wife. One son. The whole poem in a single word.
The Odyssey isn't really about the journey. It's about what you're going back to. Ithaca isn't paradise — it's a small rocky island with 108 men eating his food and courting his wife. But it's his. That distinction — between what's fine and what's yours — is the entire point of twenty years of suffering. Cavafy understood it. So did Odysseus. Hopefully so do you.