My Home

I come back home from school, As I open the door, I hear my brother crying from his bedroom, and my mom going to get him. How does my house help my mom with everything? It helps her with going upstairs, the stairs. It helps her with washing the dishes, the sink. It helps her have some quiet time, her room. It helps her with cooling me and my siblings down, the back yard. It helps her cook, the oven. It helps her with a lot of things. How does my mom help the house? She cleans it, of course. But what else? We live in it, sure. But what if we lived next door? Will we still like our house as much as we do to this one? Or will we treat it bad, Like such? I only wish to stay here forever, and never switch houses, Because for some odd reason, I always felt like this house was here for us. ever since my parents and older sister moved to Canada. I hope that one day, I will help my parents more, With cleaning the house and doing my chores. I hope that everyone knows the meaning of home, And that we are lucky to have one, Because others don’t.