What Home Means to Me

Home is a place where I can be my true self at last, I do not worry about being judged or abashed. The quiet and calm early mornings when no one is around, Turn into afternoons with chaos and sound. Almost every night when I lie in my bed, I hear a train go by as the sound circles my head. Although in a way, it’s a very comforting sound at it’s pace, It lets me know that I am at home in my safe space. On cold winter days when I come inside from playing, I just might smell the delicious smell of warm baking. On cool summer nights as I watch the sunset glow, I think of all the amazing memories I’ve made in my home long ago. However the memories do not stop coming, Every day we make new memories in our home whether it’s the birds humming, Or simply hugging. Even though we might not remember those memories right away, They will still have a place in our hearts every day. It makes me sad to think about how not everyone has a home, To them, there is no place to settle down after a long day with a piece of toast drizzled in honeycomb. There is no place for them that you just might see a garden gnome. All the time we think about people without homes, but we just let the thought pass without care, In my opinion, it’s not fair. Together we can change that, Just by writing a good story about our homes will make an impact!