Home

I love my home because my home feels safe to me. My great Grandma lived in it and I never got to meet her. But all I know is that she helped paint it. She was an artist and she lived there, but I think my home was built by my great Grandpa and it was all dusty and dirty until my great Grandma painted it and cleaned it up. Then my Grandma was born and she had my brother's room and her brothers had my room. I don't even know how they did it because they had 4 kids with 3 bedrooms and the bedrooms are small so how did they fit two kids in each bedroom other than my great Grandpa and Grandma. My great Grandpa got another wife then they moved so their home became my home but I wasn't born yet nor was my brother so my Mom and Dad painted and did a lot of stuff to his room and then he was born. My room was all white and had nothing in it. Then they did the same thing to my room but my room was purple. I had all the stuff I love. A few years later my Mom and Dad did. Our basement had everything I needed and wanted. I felt safe in my home because I'm with the people I love but I don't really like my brother but I still love him.