What Home Means To Me

What Home Means to Me To me, home means a safe place to live, a place where I am happy, and a place where people love me. It means a cozy town, a quiet room, and many “Sweetie, you need to get up or you’ll be late for school!”s. Home means to me a thousand books, a billion “Waya, will you play with me?”s and, of course, many “Waya, it’s 8:30! We can play video games!” Home means a lot of goodies and treats to fight over, a lot of squabbling bears, as my dad calls us. Home means “No, it’s mine!” and “That’s not fair!” every week and every day. Home means a Nintendo Switch, on which me and my brother (and possibly our parents) race on the tracks of MarioKart World. Home means “Hey, I was going to sit there!” and “Well, I got here first!” time after time after time. Home means a tiny lego figure, which I can bend into a thousand poses. Home means my brother acting like a lemur, jumping around. Home means watching a funny skit. “Haha, they said I could never teach a llama to drive!”, a “MRAAAAAAAAAA!!!” and a “No, llama, noooo!!!” (“Mraaaaaaa . . .”) Home means my brother, holding his hands in front of himself, clutching an imaginary steering wheel, screaming, “Mraaaaaa!!!” Home means my brother and my dad, racing along the sidewalk, determined to touch my outstretched hand first. My home is small but cozy, and last of all, my home is something that I can be grateful for.