What Home means to me

Home isn’t a building where it has walls and doors. Home is where you live, where you feel comfortable and protected by your parents. Where you celebrate birthdays or traditions. Home is something I see, I can see food at the table, smiles and hugs everywhere, me and my sister fighting for the T.V remote. Home is something I hear, I can hear laughter at the dinner table, chatter coming out of our mouths. Cries when we’re hurt. Home is something I taste. I can taste the food my parents cook every day, taste different flavors every time. Home is something I feel, I can feel protected by the roof over my head, walls protecting privacy and doors to lock out strangers. I feel comforted by my family comforting me when I’m sad and protecting me from danger. Home is something I touch. I can touch my belongings that are special to me, and my family too. I can touch the stuff in my home and not get in trouble. Home is where I live. I moved to many countries that I call home. Philippines, U.S.A, New Zealand and lastly Canada. I’m glad to meet new faces and other people too. My favorite country to stay in is Canada.