What Home Means to Me

My house is not only a home, it’s the area where happiness blooms and the place of joyous, laughter of cheerful families, and friends. As I step through the door of my home, I hear the chatting of my kindhearted mother and my hilarious brother, and I smell the scent of my mom’s fabulous dish. As I breathe in the wondrous smell, the smell wraps around me just like a tight hug, which reminds me where I belong. When I walk towards the smell of the delicious food, I hear the sound of my wonderful father playing a beautiful song on guitar. I walk towards the couch as it calls me over with soft, fluffy pillows and a cozy blanket. In front of me, on a crystal clear glass table, I see a few ruby red strawberries. The wonderful scent of melting chocolate wafts towards me from the vanilla and chocolate ice cream that my brother is eating. A few minutes later, as I was reading a book called ‘The Lion, Witch, and Wardrobe’, my mother called me for dinner. The warm aroma of soup wafted into my lungs. I sipped the delicious brew, the warm mixture rippling down my throat. After I finished dinner, I drank milk and went upstairs onto my soft, comfy, and relaxing bed to sleep. I rested my head on my puffy pillow, my head pointed at the ceiling. “Today was a great day”, I thought, as my eyelids started to droop. “Tomorrow, if I stay positive, will be even better.” And with that, I fell asleep. Home is calming, glorious, and perfect. Best of all, home is mine.