My Meaning of Home

What is the meaning of home? Is it the squeaky floors or the dusty surfaces? Is it the clock ticking or the fan’s wafting air filling the house? Is it the smoldering fire in the furnace? Or is it just…. a feeling. The feeling of love that fills you with the warm sensation of hot cocoa on a winter’s night. The feeling of laughter, -laughing like a hyena until your stomach hurts. The feeling of the tight bond that can never be broken. Given this, home isn't even a physical place. It’s a feeling. My perspective broadened when I visited an orphanage in Nairobi, Kenya. I understood that you don’t have to be biologically related to experience the feeling of home with other people. It wasn’t big or fancy , many children shared rooms, clothes and books. When we visited the orphanage they welcomed us with smiles. I could feel happiness all around me. I witnessed the older children taking care of the younger ones. And the care-givers treated the children with patience and listened to them. They made every child feel seen, they made them feel like they belonged. They ensured that they felt like they were family, even though they were orphans. When I went back home, I thought deeply about what I had seen. I understood that home is not just a building or having many things. Home is a place where you feel safe, cared for, and accepted. It is where people love you and stand by you, even in the hardest times. The children in the Nairobi orphanage taught me that home is made from love, sharing, and hope. That lesson will stay with me forever. I realized that my family really is my home, and nothing can change that.