Home is a Flowing River

Home. It might just be a word for some, but to others it might be a foreign concept. It has many meanings, depending on the person you ask. To some, it might mean a shelter, like a house or an apartment. It might mean a place where you’re comfortable, like your room or the closest library. Another place one might call home might be the very basic answer, their house. It might be a place where they can cuddle up with a pet, hang out with their siblings, curl up with a nice book next to a campfire. To others, their house might be a place of fighting, yelling, or freezing temperatures. To me, home means somewhere where you feel safe, connected, and where you can belong. A place where no judgement is passed, a place where you can be yourself without any consequences. One of my homes is my school, though I recognise that it might not be that way for others. To some, school is a place of judgement, disgust, bullying, and negative actions. That is exactly what a home is not. To answer what home means to me is a very good question. In my opinion, home has no fixed place. It’s everchanging, whether you like it or not. You might think that your house is a home, but then an incident happens and you feel like school is a better place. Home has no definition, other than it being a safe place with people you are comfortable with. Home isn’t something you can just assign, like a river, it flows in the nearest direction. That, is what home means. Home is where you feel safe, connected, and closest to yourself and others.