The Place I call Home

Home. To some, all they see is a word. But to me, the true definition is beyond spoken words. My home is filled to the brim with love and warmth. It is where I run to for refuge. My home is where I feel like my true self, free of judgement. My home is not just a place; it is a feeling of being truly known and loved. I am loved by my family no matter where I am. When I am with them, I am at home. They are always understanding and supportive of me, and for that, I am full of gratitude. My home is where warmth resides, unbreakable bonds are created, and unending patience is given. A house’s foundation is constructed of concrete and steel, but a home’s foundation is made from everlasting love and affection. From my mom’s delicious homemade meals in the kitchen to my sisters’ endless collection of toys scattered across the basement floor, each room of my home is filled with memories, both big and small. Every moment is cherished in my heart, nothing taken for granted. My home is where I feel the most connected to the people around me. Each little thing matters here, and nothing is ever left out. At home, I am free to be myself, perfectly imperfect in every way. I am grateful I have my home, and I deeply appreciate what I have. Sadly, not everyone has a home like mine, and some are not fortunate enough to have a sturdy roof over their heads. But that’s where Habitat for Humanity steps in. Thanks to you, increasingly more people throughout Canada are being given a place to call home.