The Meaning of Home

Home is a place where all your memories are stored, where some important actions happen. Like when you learn to walk or talk. That’s the place where the beautiful memories are stored. I see the origami bear that my mom made with her beautiful hands on the chimney. I see the huge window on the wall facing a bit of the mountains and a tiny little part of goose spit. I see the joyful birds jumping around my backyard while baby Remmy tui runs everywhere around the top floor. I see Bruno playing with his Mario toys. I hear birds chirping outside while I wake up to see the beautiful blue sky. The worm cozy blankets fall slowly off me while I get up. I notice with my toes the chilliness of the stairs while I walk to the top floor. I hear my mom making cringily little sounds with the pan and the kitchen tools. I smell the good old Colombian hot chocolate that my mom makes for breakfast with the delicious smell of fried eggs sizzling on the pan while I walk up to the couch and lay on it, feeling its rough material. I feel my body getting more awake while I blink more and more times. I feel the joy of a fresh start to a day. I can taste the delicious Colombian warm hot chocolate running through my throat while my mom serves me a fried egg. I can taste the crunchiness and the delicious taste of the parts that have salt. I can feel the rough couch and the super soft feeling of Remmy sleeping on my arm joint, all curled up in a little ball laying his head on my arm. While I lay on the couch with my super-duper fluffy soft blanket. I can feel the air of happiness through the house and my heart filled with gratitude while all of us have something to do that we like, to keep us busy. I feel that all of us are safe here and happy. Home is not just a happy cozy place; home is where you live.