Home

In my home, I always feel safe. I feel like nothing can hurt me. At home, I feel like no matter what — even if I was misbehaving or didn’t understand a concept — they would accept me and help me with any problem I have. At home, my family is always really nice and will chat or play with me if they’re not busy, and that makes me happy. Home is a small place where you spend hundreds of wonderful memories with your family, friends, and relatives. When I think of home, I imagine a calm, chill space where I can sit on the couch and rest whenever I need to. Home feels like the smell of cooking meat and a keyboard typing. Home is not just a place; it’s a place where you are accepted and always will be. I know I’m home when I hear my mom saying hello as I walk through the door. To me, home means a place you go to after you’re done at places like school, work, or the grocery store. To me, home means a safe place. At my home, I feel safe because it isn’t just me laughing and cracking jokes — it’s everyone. At home, I see my mom at her work desk sending emails and hiring people for boats. When I am home, I hear my mom’s mouse clicking and videos playing on the TV, and my dad is cooking supper on the stove. Home looks tall and skinny. My home has two tall trees in front of it. My home has lots of toys and furniture. Home sounds like Alexa playing my mom’s favorite music artist, Ed Sheeran. Home is great!