A place called home

A home belongs to me because my family is in it. It has four corners filled with love, laughter, and memories. A house, on the other hand, is just a building with furniture inside. A home is a place where I feel safe all the time. A house can feel quiet, lonely, or even a little scary. In my home, I am surrounded by memories from when I was little. Every room holds a story. A house does not hold those memories or remind you of the fun times you shared with your family. My home is where I live, eat, laugh, and grow. A house is simply walls, floors, doors, a roof, and maybe a chimney. It is just a structure. A home is where I can laugh about silly things with the people I love most. Without my family, a house would feel empty and cold. When I walk through the door of my home, my dog comes running toward me with his tail wagging. He rolls over so I can pet him because he is bursting with joy and so happy to see me. That feeling cannot be found in just any house. A house may keep you dry from the rain, but a home makes you feel like you truly belong. In my home, when I am stuck on something I cannot figure out, there is always someone there to help me. That is what a home means to me.