I am grateful for my home. It is something I have always had.
A place of rest and playfulness. A place of sorrow and happiness.A place where everything I do plants memories in my brain. Some great memories fade away but some stick and stay. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time, like everything used to be better. Often I can only appreciate the moment after it has happened and that’s what makes me sad. But I realize that my life is full of awesome things to come.
My home is peaceful right now, as I write. So calm I can hear the soft, gentle ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. This moment is relaxing and satisfying.
I like to think that I am the luckiest person alive and I am grateful for my shelter. I’d wish that on anyone.
Home is all around me, its not just the building that I sleep in, its my neighbours, friends and family that make up “home” to me. There is a sense that home is permanent, but really its the people, sights and sounds that are familiar, they could be anywhere, as long as I feel like being me.