Home, My Home
Home, My Home
Home, what does that really mean? Not just a bed and blanket or a roof and floor. A home can vary from a seven story mansion to a little log cabin in the woods. Homes are just like people; they come in all shapes and sizes, it doesn’t matter what it looks like on the outside it’s who’s in the inside. Maybe your home is just a wood shack in the woods, or possibly a blanket under the stars with only your family to keep you warm and some trees for shelter. Wherever your home is, it’s who you share your life with that defines your home.
My home, it isn’t just one shelter I call my home, it’s all the little details that come with it. Like my friends and I climbing the big oak tree in the corner of my backyard on a cold, crisp autumn day, the wind spilling the leaves off the trees. Or being trampled by 100 lbs of soft black canine fur greeting me when I step inside the front door. Mom and I making homemade valentine cards until 2:00 in the morning, glitter and extra scrap paper scattering the floor. We’re too exhausted to clean it up.
I love baking our special Christmas cookies on a chilly winter afternoon watching the sparkly white snow drizzle the back deck just out the window, a number one hit each year.
Even the little things like the warm tender smile I get when I greet my mom after school, dad asking how our day was, or the tremendous sound of my brother’s electric guitar. The little things that make our house a home. That special scent of our home, our sanctuary, the feeling of love in the air makes you grin from ear to ear and no one knows why. Though we don’t always take the time to think about it we are all blessed with a home.
There are many stories about what a home is, about having perfect homes, perfect people, perfect pets-and furniture, but homes aren’t perfect they are just what they are each unique in their own way.