The Memories it Holds

Home is where my smile shines brightest, when I’m enveloped in a warm hug; smiles, laughter, stories, and calm are part of its embrace. The walls capture emotions, hold paintings, and works of art.  In my room, the fairy lights twinkle. My wall’s paint chipped, papers crinkled. In its imperfections, we sit and talk. My siblings and I, from dusk to dawn. In the kitchen are some familiar smells, eba and okro, popcorn with caramel. I sit at the table, listen to a book, and the sound of boiling as food is being cooked. It’s not just about the plates, but the fun we have while they’re being made. The living room becomes a game, talking and chattering, and then shushes as the movie begins. My home says so much about me. The paint, the books- perfectly messy. We yell and argue playing games, bump balls outside, knees scraped. With every memory that we make, they won’t last forever, but that’s okay.