The Home in My Heart  

When you think of home you think of a house. Or maybe you don't. Maybe you think of family. I know I could not live without mine. My brother always makes me laugh and my sister is probably my best friend. We love to make up games and talk all the time. But I really find my home at camp. When we have a sleepover on the floor of our cabin and talk before bed or when we cheer each other on when somebody reaches the top of the rock wall. My home is best at camp because everyone is so supportive. The counselors really, truly, care about us. I get this cozy feeling when the minnows nibble our feet while we wash our faces with clay. Even the hard wood on the benches in the chapel feels welcoming and comfy. When it rains, we don't stay cooped up in the cabins, No, we dance and get soaked to the bone. Home is a feeling rushing through my soul. It's a cozy feeling, like a warm fuzzy blanket wrapping around me. Even when my family is on vacations and are continents away from our house. Home is not the building it’s doing the things I love and being with my friends. Home is what happens in my heart. That's why I'm so thankful for Habitat for Humanity because it's making new homes possible.