When I think of home, I think of the warmth in my house. I think of the soothing soft sounds of the frogs, and the loud calls of the toads that talk during the night. When I think of home, I remember the safe, protective feelings of love that my family pours into ours. I remember how hard my parents work to keep our house, our home, a happy place that makes me smile.
Me, you, we… We all have a thought of a home. We all know how lucky we are to actually have a a place to call home. We have a nice, warm bed to keep us cozy through out the night, walls around us to keep us safe and a strong roof to keep us from the many weathers outside.
When I think of home, I remember waking up to the oranges, reds and pinks of the sun rising into the nice beautiful light blue sky.. I also remember how I love sleeping in and waiting for another day to pop up, a day that I can have all to myself.
When I think of home, I remember vanilla. A sweet homey scent that fills our house all the time, especially at Christmas. I remember our families getting together and laughing over games and food. I remember my mom, who always has the scent on her, in her hair… and her arms waiting to hug me when I walk in. I remember my dad asking what we baked, because the vanilla makes him think TREATS, and I smile.
When I think of home, I think there is no place I want to be, but there. I also know that, if I lost my house, my parents would always find a way to make a home, no matter where we were. I guess a house is just walls and a roof, but a home, is the feelings and memories that are put into it.