It's My Home

I'm walking home from school when I notice something. “What do I actually like about my home? Am I actually grateful?” I reach my house. When I go inside, I talk to my mum. “Mum?” “Yes, hon?” “Do you think I'm grateful for our house?” “Yes, of course, why?” she says, with some surprise. “I don’t think so,” I say. “Well, what do we do here?” she asks. “Umm... well, we eat here and sleep here and...” “We have memories here, right?” “Oh, yeah,” I say. “I forgot about that part! Why would I?” “Think about all the people who don’t have homes like we do,” she says. I think for a moment. “That’s sad,” I say, looking at her. “I know, so now do you think you are grateful for our home?” “I'll think about it,” I say. The next day, I feel some different feelings. When I get up from my bed, it feels warmer than usual. When I walk down the hall, I feel like I'm walking a mile, looking at all the pictures on the wall. When I see my mum in the kitchen, I feel comfort. When I eat breakfast, my toast tastes more yummy than it did yesterday. When I say goodbye to my mum and walk outside, I think to myself, “I am grateful!”