What Home Means To Me

As I walk in the door, I see a big dog and a small dog. They jump up with excitement and bark. As I run up to my room I shut the door, and I hear voices from downstairs. I hear the door open once again. I hear a yell, “CLARE!” as I rush downstairs I hug my grandfather, as I see the treats. Homemade apple pie ,carrot cake, lollipops and Pepsi. He walks out the door after we say our goodbyes. I rushed back upstairs to see a pair of eyes, I kicked them out and locked the door. As I don’t like a single person in my zone. My zone is a safe place where I can be me where I can be sad and mad, happy and snappy. Where I can laugh and cry, shout and sleep. I have happy memories, sad memories. I have memories of my mom handing me a blanket she made, my dad coming home from a work vacation, my sister being rude to me, my brother crying, my dogs barking, my cat scratching at the front door. Home isn't a building, it can be a tree, a street, a bench or a boat. We all have memories. Maybe something like a stuffed animal is much more to you then to others. Maybe you have stuff from people you’ve lost. At my nans there's a bedroom on the 3rd floor. There's a stain in there and we call it our great grandfather. But he passed away so we say it’s his ghost looking after us. I consider my bestfriends house my house because we're so close. So I basically have 3 homes… My home is where I can be me. It’s my home.