Home is where the heart is

This is normally a hard question for me to answer. Everyone has different thoughts on how to reply. Should I answer honestly, or kindly? They might think. Some spend a long time to think and end up having a one-word answer. Hope. Loss. Family. Love. Some think for a second and reply with a small, silly answer like, pizza. “What does home mean to you?” I knew that this day would come when they would ask me. I came un-prepared. Ooops. I think hard about what the others have said. They say it’s being funny. Feeling safe is another. Some take the question seriously. They say, “It means hard work and a good foundation.” To me, it’s all of this and none of this. I walk home in the cold snow. Shelter. That’s the word. A home is a shelter of love and happiness. When I step in the door, I feel the warmth. Soon, the colours flood my mind, and all I see is the meaning of home. No. My meaning of home. I see the way my mom takes the cookies out of the oven. My dad cooking spaghetti sauce for dinner. My sister complimenting me. As we eat, I hear all the inside jokes and funny stories about our day. After we hang out and even as we say goodnight, I feel the feeling of being safe. Being warm and having a bed to sleep in. So, when they ask me again, I’ll know what to say. “What does home mean to you?” They ask me again. And this time I do have an answer. I tell them that home to me, is where the heart is. My family, my home, my friends, everything. So, when they ask you, tell them to look around and see.