My Home

Imagine it's the 24th of December in Waterloo. You go home at the end of your walk in the whipping cold blizzard. You’re pleased because it’s finally Christmas eve. You knock on the door of your home and your mom opens it. The sound of Christmas music fills your ears along with your dog’s happy barks and people chatting. You remember your extended family’s over while you feel the warm air inside your home as your mom invites you in. When you enter, you smell frosted sugar cookies, scented burning candles, and pine from the tree. You can hear your brother playing with your cousins and you feel it’s the perfect time to greet your family. You go up to your room and collapse on your bed with a cheerful sigh. After, you lay there for a few minutes before your mom calls you downstairs for dinner. Your full family comes to the table and you pray before you eat the delicious tourtiere. For dessert, you eat some sugar cookies your mom made earlier today. After dessert, you go into the living room, where the noise of conversations drowns all other sounds. You yawn. It's late at night. You walk upstairs to the bathroom and brush your teeth. The sound of chatter is dimmed up there. You walk into your bedroom and close the door. Now all sounds are muffled. You climb into your soft, warm, bed. That’s what home means to me. A comfortable home where I can be myself, and have lots of food and a roof over my head. I have more than just what I need. I love my home, but the most important thing that makes a house a home is the people in it. The family you love.