What Home Means to Me

What home means to me is when my dogs bark at nothing outside, when younger my dog gets the zoomies, when she doesn't get her morning walk. Where the same dog destroys the toys she got a few minutes ago, just because she's a labrador retriever puppy. Home is when my family has supper together on the couch talking and laughing together, where only one of us watches the show while the others talk. When I'm in Mexico, I still feel at home because of the memories I make and have made there with my family, when we fall asleep watching a show at the theater, or when we just hang out in the hotel room. I still feel at home doing those things because it's the memories I make and the people I do it with, not where it happens or what the setting looks like. Home is a place where I can be myself, a place where I belong. Home is a place where no one judges you for you, a place where I laugh at things I don't even find funny because that's where I'm comfortable. You can be across the globe and still feel at home, if you do it with the people you trust in life. That's what home means to me.