My home speaks to me

My Home Speaks Love Whenever I think of my home, it begins to speak to me. It speaks in four voices: my mom’s, my dad’s, my grandma’s, and my brother’s. When my home starts talking, I can almost taste the food my mom, dad, and grandma have made for me. I feel lucky to experience three different personalities through their cooking, each leaving flavors and memories I will carry with me for the rest of my life. First, there is my grandma. She turns cooking into something more than just preparing food. The kitchen fills with her stories, her experiments, and the love she spreads around. It is not only about the meals, but also the little things. Playing Sudoku or Scrabble together. Coming home from school to find she has made my favorite dish. Those quiet moments remind me how deeply I am loved. Then there is my mom. She loves to experiment. If she sees a recipe online, she pours her heart into recreating it. Even without everything she needs, she finds a way to make it work. One afternoon, I came home hungry and opened the snack cupboard to find the treats my brother and I had asked for. It was simple, but it meant so much. My dad perfects what he knows, whether it is his crab curry or biryani. After overhearing my brother and me talk about Mexican street fruit, he surprised us with seasoned pineapple just like we imagined. It was a small gesture, but I still remember how special it felt. One day, my brother and I will look back and smile at the little things that meant everything. For me, home is where love is shared through meals and memories that last a lifetime.