A House and a Home

When I think of a home, I think of how many people only have a house. A house that you can’t feel comfortable in. A house where you can’t spend time with the people that you truly love and most of all, a house that you can’t make those lovable, sweet memories with your family and friends in. Imagine you were that person and you couldn’t do any fun stuff with your home. Imagine all those people out there who can’t fall asleep because they didn’t have a comfy bed. That’s how those people feel. They feel lonely and they probably feel like they're not welcome at their house. A house to me means just a small building in the middle of the city with no friends around you, but to the people out there that only have a house, it probably feels like a lot more to them. It feels like a roof over their heads and a bed that’s not comfy, but it's somewhere to sleep. They say that every story has a reason, so the reason I'm writing this essay is that I really care about those people out there. It really means a lot to me that I have a home. I never thought that there was a difference between a house and a home until I wrote this