Inside my home

My home looks cold and bare on the outside, but inside is where my heart, my childhood,& my first memories live. My basement is full of “clutter” but nobody knows that inside all the clutter are my first baby toys, or my dog's old toys. All stuff that will forever be attached to me. My home is something engraved into my heart, into my brain, into my life. My home hugs me tight, and doesn't let go. My home has small scrapes across the wall, stains on the couch, markers on the headboards to our beds, but not many people realise they are little time capsules that remind me of what life looks like when you enjoy it. “Home” is just a word, but it's a word that holds all my memories tight. My home lights up and welcomes all my friends and family. Home holds me and my family together like magnets that won't let go. My home goes quiet once someone leaves, like a piece is missing. home remembers all the late nights I spent doing homework, and all the late nights I stayed up making memories that hold my house together like glue. Home is a word, a word that opens doors to new friends, new conversations, a new life. Home is a word deep in my heart, that nobody would understand, and that's what makes it special to me.