My Sweet, Little Home 

Home is a place where you feel secure and loved. It is where I was born, where my family was living and where our memories are. This place is my home in Ukraine. It's not just a place, it’s a feeling of a joyful and pleasant family. Home is where my family lived, back in Ukraine. It is where we made memories together and I will never forget it. It’s in family’s photo’s still hanging up on old walls of our old, sweet home. Home is where you see dad cooking meals that smell delectable, or mom putting still wet orange plates on our triangular table. It is where you see my older brothers running with some cars in their hands and persuading mom to buy them new cars. It was where, when I was little and couldn’t eat by myself, that my mom would cut the meat into little pieces for me. Home is where dinner is so beautiful and brilliant at one time. Home is where you hear calm music coming from your dad’s phone, or my mom gently talking with her coworkers. It is where my brothers are watching YouTube and see some ad with a calm and sweet voice, that tells them something. Home is when you’re little, and you make some weird noises all over the house. Home is where you smell delicious bread that your dad is making. It is the smell of aromatic shampoo that mom buys in “Eva” stores. It is where my brothers play with my fruity Playdough. It is the smell of cake girl toy, that is NOT food. It is smell of the spicy chicken that parents love to eat. Home is the feeling of love and joy, safe places, comfy places, loving places. Home is the happy smile when you wake up, or happy day outside. Home is the feeling of loving parents and brothers, feeling joy from all of them. Home is feeling pleasant outside. Home to me is love. It is sweet smells and tasty foods, safe and joyful places, and the beautiful and brilliant sun when you wake up. Home is the place that you love more than everything. This is my home.