What Makes a House a Home

Small British towns winding through the streets. Tiny shops selling biscuits. Rosebushes as pathway decorations, vinces climb the streetlights. Follow the stone path, eventually you will reach the overgrown pond. It has lilies and cattails swaying in the breeze and little frogs swimming as smaller tadpoles wriggle. Keep following the blossoming willows til you reach the sunny field of dandelions. Children kicking and running, knocking down the delicate stems, watching as the seeds take flight in the wind. You reach the grand oak tree. Decades old, the tree is still blooming. Next to the tree, there is a road. Following the road, we reach a tall, narrow house. It's yellow and blue. We walked to the door and walked in. The paint on the outside was peeling and chipping. A small sofa sits in the corner of the narrow living room. It creaks and aches. The outside isn't the prettiest sight but the inside is magical. Tapestries hang through the hall; paintings glow in the sunlight pouring in from the window. A family, not perfect, sits at the dining room table together. Sometimes they fight, sometimes they disagree. But all families are like that. That's how family works. Tall stairs lead you to the second floor, many doors are up here. An attic door cathces your attention. Up here is a bedroom. Beautiful decorations and artwork are everywhere in the room. Stories are told, Stories are made, Stories are here. Spiders click, tick and chitter above. The house is old but still new. Family after family travel through this house, each one adding a bit of life with each visit. This is more than a house. The walls, roof, and floors aren't what complete this house. The life you give makes this house a home.