My Comforting Little Nook

______________________________________ When I think of home, I don’t think about the rustic red bricks and the muted dull blue garage doors; instead, I think of home. The home in my heart, not on my street, in my emotions, not my neighbourhood. The feathery softness of my duvet cover brushing against my skin, my adorable Schnoodle dog, Cookie, furiously biting his favourite pink piggy toy. It may not be perfect at times, it may not be calm or happy all the time, but it’s home. The sound of my mom’s voice calling me down for dinner slices through the loud banging and clanging of the kitchen equipment in the kitchen. I jolted out of my thoughts and started going downstairs. The smell of the richly seasoned sesame pork ribs pierce my nose, and my mouth instantly starts watering. My sister is already sitting on her chair, of course, and my dad is getting the bowls to fill them up with some fragrant jasmine rice. I open up the drawer and get our wooden chopsticks. A typical dinner night, but it’s a special dinner night every single night. The smell of my culture’s food, my dog’s angry grumbles because we didn’t give her pork is part of my home. After we finish, I grab a small mandarin to snack on whilst I do my homework. I ran upstairs, almost tripping over my dog, who was following me upstairs. I apologised and flipped over her floppy ear and continued up. I shut and lock the door, flop onto my fluffy bed, and snuggle my pillow. Home comforts me, home makes me feel calm like nobody else does. Home is my place, my comforting nook where I can be myself without anybody watching over me, nobody judging me. No discrimination, drama, rumours, just my home