What does home mean to me?

Home is not a place you just live in, nor sleep in. It is a place that you should cherish as much as you can. Home is a blessing, with so many great memories: Learning how to walk for the first time and learning how to ride a bike, All those memories are housed at home. Oh, how I soared! How I feel secure at home, bundled-up cozily in a fuzzy warm blue blanket. What great days making cupcakes at home with Mom. How I feel sorry for those, youthful or old Who don't have the blessing that I have, And how they spend their days tied to the shackles of homelessness, Not being able to feel the same as I do. The feeling I have of being snug, secure and safe Can never be replicated away from home. I have moved once, and had the great feeling That I would meet new people and be part of a community. A loving one. One that will be there by my side, at my lowest or my highest. Along the bumpy road that we call life, family will always be there. I went on vacation before. The house was nice and I have memories there, too: Celebrating my sister's and brother’s birthdays at our house, Having sleepovers at my grandpa’s house. Those memories are unique and something I will not forget. My home is special to me. It brings me joyful memories, like the smell of jam cookies. I’m very lucky to have a home to call my own. Home is where my heart is. I would like to dedicate this last section of the poem to recognize Habitat For Humanity for encouraging me to write this poem. In the possibility that I’ll not win, I'll still be glad that $10 will go to my local Habitat For Humanity.