How I see home

Home begins in the small moments that feel familiar, in the sound of the door closing behind me, in the quiet comfort of knowing I am exactly where I belong. It’s the laughter at the dinner table, voices talking over one another, my brother arguing over something small, and everyone pretending to be annoyed while smiling anyway. The kitchen light glowing late at night, a quiet “did you eat” from down the hall, my brother knocking at my door, just to say something small, and staying a little longer, when I don’t feel like talking. Home is inside jokes no one else gets, forgiven mistakes, and growing side by side even when we pretend we don’t care.