What Is Home To Me

Home is not the bricks that you build with or the wooden boards on my floor or the color my room is painted .Home is the little things that make my heart feel good and warm. Home is the way the floor feels cool under my bare feet in the morning and afternoon. It’s the clatter of dishes and the smell of toast popping up from the toaster. It’s the sound of someone calling my name from another room, just to ask to see what I’m doing. Home is my special corner on my bed or couch where I curl up with my favorite book and toy to read. It’s the blanket that’s a little too big for me and the pillow that’s a little too squishy. It’s the drawings I made that are taped to the fridge, even the messy ones. Home is where I practice the cartwheels that I don't really get how to do in the hallway and build tall block towers that sometimes just fall over . When they fall, my home doesn’t laugh at me. It helps me try again and again. Home is where I spend the rainy days. When I watch drops race down the window. It’s a sunny day when light fills every room and makes the dust sparkle like the tiny stars I see at night. Most of all, home is where I get the one feeling that I get when I'm wanted. It’s knowing I can share my biggest dreams and my smallest worries. It’s big warm hugs that last a little longer when I need them. No matter how big I grow up or where I go, home will always be the place that knows me best of all. Home is where I am loved for exactly who I am.