Therefore, We Write

The knob twists to reveal a home. The kitchen, the living room, the bedrooms; full of laughter and joy. The love spreads all around the house with each step. The warmth and love of being at home is overwhelming. My home is cold. I am hungry. I wish I could be seen. I wish I could be helped. I do not have a feeling of joy and love. The kitchen is filled with food. For making and eating. The smells are lovely, juicy, and delicious. The sounds are bubbly, bright, noisy. Love is in the kitchen. I am hungry. I smell stale, smoke, damp. I hear my stomach growling, Cars zooming by, pattering of rain. The living room is filled with people. Laughing and talking all day long. I’m comfortable. I feel the warmth from the fireplace, I see the crackling fire. I am uncomfortable. I have no chair. It is cold, damp, and miserable. The ground is hard and stony. I feel hopeless. My bedroom is cosy and fun. The place where I sleep and play games. Warm and happy I drift to sleep. I have nowhere to sleep. I am cold and scared. I hear things that scare me. It is too dark to see. My memories are happy. My home is where I first learned to ride a bike. I learned to read and write here. I am learning to cook. I have memories, But they are lonely. I do not have much. My country is Canada. I am free. I am learning in school. I am safe. Some other countries have No food No comfort People only have each other. Home is not a place... it is a feeling. Everyone deserves one, Therefore, we write.