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Home Not House

My home is not my house, my home cannot be defined into one residence or property. It is not a structure but a place filled with love, To me, my home isn’t a physical object but a feeling inside. My home feels like the gold embroideries on my sari as me and my siblings light the diya for Diwali, the warm flame soothing my face. Home tastes like my grandfather’s warm home cooked butter chicken with flavours that are indescribable. My home sounds like my puppy yawning as she slowly falls asleep in my lap her small furry head resting on my knee, When she is with us she knows she’s safe because we can love and protect her, that’s how I feel in my home. Home is warm and fuzzy like when my family cuddles up on the couch for movie night, The taste of buttery, salty popcorn melts on my tongue My home looks like my family all laughing together by the pool, as the hot sun glows on their radiant skin 3,2,1! Splash! We all jump together into the pool, the cool temperature refreshing us after a long day in the sun. The sound of rushing water and laughter surrounds me as I sail around the pool on my floatie. No matter where I go when I am with loved ones I feel like I’m home.


Grade 6

toronto, Ontario

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