If home were a colour

If home were a colour, I think it would be a warm, soft sunset glow on a summer evening. If house were a colour, it would be the same thing, but rather muted. House and home are not the same thing. House is where home happens. Imagine you were in a grassy field, and in this grassy field there are flowers in all the colours of the kaleidoscope. Violets, tulips, orchids, bluebells, all lustrous in the glow of a summer afternoon. But do you think that this field would be this beautiful without the flowers? Of course, but it wouldn’t be as pretty without the flowers. Home; the flowers. House; the field. House is as comforting as the couch after I come back from school. It gives me shelter, food, and a pantry where all the candy is. It’s a place where I can pace around the kitchen island for five minutes. Home is a place I feel comfortable enough to debate over everything with my parents and bicker with my little sister nonstop. It’s where I slow dance to classical music with my older sister. At home, me and my family joke around while having breakfast on a Sunday morning. It is the place I can rely on to take me in when I’m weak and let me come back even stronger than before. Home is the place that nourishes me and helps me to spread my wings and soar into the golden sky. Home. The sunset glow.