My Home

My home is my family. My home is my school. My home is my joy. My home is the sweet smell of my mother’s arms when she embraces me, the warmth that fills my body when I walk in from the fierce winter air, the way my heart races as I laugh extremely hard when my brother makes a hilarious joke. My home is the grin that slides on my face when my mother commands me to clean my room but, as usual, I procrastinate and jokingly groan. My home is the fear that floods my body as I realize I have just done something extremely embarrassing or when I suspect I am about to be judged and rejected. My home is when all my insecurities and fears come alive inside of me and I feel worthless, hopeless. My home is the hope when I think, “Today is a new day. Anything is possible.” My home is the sensation of awe as I realize I am surrounded by amazing, wonderful, beautiful people. My home is when my heart hazardously dares to admire someone. My home is the foolishness of the way my breath catches every single time my father hilariously sneezes at vociferous volume. My home is the pain and sorrow that fills my heart when I overhear my mother and father arguing. My home is my heart that feels an overwhelming amount of feelings, that beats and races with excitement, that is filled with an immeasurable quantity of love. My home is my family. My home is my school. My home is my joy. My home is my heart.