What Home Is

I have never had a real home. Because I am a foster child. I have spent my entire life bouncing from house to house, none have ever made me feel fuzzy love inside. I've seen it all from big messy to small and dreary. But never have I ever seen one that welcomes me. So here I am back to the orphanage I go. Curling up into a ball asking myself “what is home?” And to answer my question a couple walks in. With clothes gray and bleak asking, “would you come with us?” “We may not seem like much, but we can give you a home.” I say yes but I know that it's just more people coming to get me so I can serve as a maid. But I go anyway. And to my surprise I saw a tiny house with a chimney and a bright red door. I know it's not much but I couldn't ask for more. And after many months of baking, playing, and learning to read and write, I know now that home is where family is, where you are appreciated and loved. Because no matter how big or small your house is, home is where family is.