A house is a container; home is its soul.

For many, home and house are the same thing, but I don't think so. Houses are expensive, precisely sized, and luxuriously decorated. However, no matter how beautiful a house is, without people living in it, without love, it's just a cold building. A house itself is merely a soulless structure. But when someone lives in it, it is given life, and everything changes completely. Home is where memories begin; home is where the soul finds solace. What is the meaning of home? It's returning home to find a hot, delicious meal laid out on the table. It means that even if you come home late, your family will be waiting for you to eat together—that's home. What is home? Home is the faint scent of laundry detergent on your clothes, meaning someone is doing your laundry. That's home. When I feel wronged, my first thought is to go home and confide in my parents. Their comfort is my greatest motivation. At home, even if you make a mistake, your family's first reaction isn't to blame you, but to comfort you. As my mother often said, "It's okay, take your time, think about where things went wrong, and do better next time." Home is our source of strength. Love between family members needs no words; it exists in the laughter at the dinner table, the whispers on cold nights, and the gazes at parting. This warmth, like sunshine, illuminates the darkness of life and gives us the courage to face the wider world. Every brick and tile of our home is imbued with love. A house is only a temporary haven; you cannot completely entrust yourself to it. Home is your final destination.