Aija

Grade 5

toronto
Ontario

The meaning of home

The meaning of home

“Dad? DAD?!?”
“Calm down. I’m here,” my father says.
We lived in a parking lot of a grocery store. My dad is trying to find a good job, but I don’t think there’s hope.
“Where, where’s our home???” he sighs.
“We have lost our home. We live here now,” he tells me.
I have short term memory loss. I have had it for years, though I’m only five. As soon as he said “lost our home,” I went crazy. My heart started pounding, and my thoughts were going all over the place. I tried running to our old house, but my dad caught me.
“Stop trying! You know we can’t go back,” he yells.
Tears start rolling down my face. I try calming myself and write about the meaning of home. Later, I whisper it to myself:
“A house can be a home, but a home isn’t always a house. A home is a safe place, where you’re always welcomed with open arms. A home is a place, where people love you. A home is where your heart is.” I liked it a lot. For the rest of the day, I repeated it to myself, and I felt better.
The next day, I got bored, so I annoyed my dad – a lot.
“Daaaaaaaaaad I’m booored. What can I do???” I wailed.
“Chase some pigeons. Collect red leaves.” he said sternly. I ignore him and keep bugging him.
“I don’t want to chase pigeons. OR collect red leaves. What can I do?” I yell loudly.
“What is the meaning of home?” I ask him.
“The meaning of home. Hmmm. I think it’s being with family and a home doesn’t have to be a house.” he replies.
“Could’ve been more detailed.” I added
“Har har.” he muttered sarcastically.
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