What Does Home Mean To You?

There is nothing like the feeling when I step into my home. The familiar stairs creak as I walk up them, filling me with warmth. So many familiar memories fill my heart with happiness and love for my home. One of my favorite memories in our kitchen was when my mom and I attempted to make cookies. We laughed at how wonky they looked. There were big ones, small ones, square ones, but none were perfect, and we didn't care! It was the fun and love of making them that counts. Even though the cookies weren't perfect, the memory we created, the love we shared, and the laughter we enjoyed were perfect. Our fingers were covered in melted chocolate, and flour was everywhere, but what mattered most was the memory we just created. In that messy kitchen, surrounded by laughter, flour, and imperfect cookies, I felt like I was at home. My favourite memory in my room was when I was looking into dusty, old boxes of things, from when I was a baby, a toddler, and a kid. When I looked into the brownish-grey coloured box, I saw 3 things that caught my attention. The first thing that I saw was a tiny pink dress that was really sparkly with sequences. I had one when I was about 1 year old. The second thing I saw was a pack of colourful art supplies that were still surprisingly working, and pretty cool in my opinion. The last thing was my favourite, it was a wonky picture that me and my mom drew when i was young. There were two stick-women, one of them was me and the other was my mom. That is what I think of when I think of home.