Home

Home is the perfect, inviting greeting of a peppermint scented candle, burning in the corridor. It’s the soft, cottony blanket on my bed, just waiting for me to rest in it. Home is the sweet, sugary smell of shortbread cookies, baking slowly in the oven. The bright, red lighting that my bedroom holds. And the light, chilling breeze that my fan wafts around my room. Home is hearing my dog’s raspy, blaring bark every morning, eager to go outside. It’s the feeling of waking up to the calming, toasty sunlight shining on a Saturday morning, my eyes groggily opening as I sink into back my mattress. The delectable aroma of waffles coming from the kitchen as I hover down the stairs to enjoy the stuffing breakfast. Home can also be working on homework at my desk, as I slope foreword in my chair. My closet, brimming with sweaters that I never wear, and my dresser, crammed with shirts. It can also be the small things, like getting home from a long, exhausting day of school and having a warm soothing shower. Or the nice, cold feeling of washing my face with icy water in front of my mirror in the morning. The deafening noise of my blasting music, in which my mom tells me to turn down. Home is the place where you develop, where you mature– where you blossom. It’s the feeling of being with the people who love you, and who care for you.