What Home Means to Me

Home is not a place but a warm fuzzy feeling. It's the feeling of hearing the sounds of my dads knife “chop chop chop”. The smell of delicious food being made like stew or chicken, salad’s, potatoes., or new foods. Home is a place of food, chaos, love, anger. The arguing of my parents and brother “Yap Yap Yap” Home is a place where there are highs and lows where there is death and life but that’s what makes home feel like home that’s what my home is. Anyone can buy a little house, love it or sell it, but if you're not with people you love it’s just another house. Home is where we can cook, bake, and eat food that’s a part that makes home home. Sports and games are something that makes me feel at home. My brother's hockey, the cheering, the noise, the skates on the ice, “Skrt, shhhh”. The games we play together at home are pure joy in their laughter and giggles. The taste of my dad’s cookies are so warm, gooey, and Chocolatey they just warmed up your mouth. I can always tell if my mom is coming because of her warm vanilla sugar smell. I smell it the most when I give her a hug. My dad is playing blues music down in the basement, it’s dim but I can hear it. He plays people like Samantha Fish, Koko Taylor, and BB King. I hear guitars “strum strum” and the drums "bun bun bun budud”. All these things are important and what has made my family have a strong bond together. Wherever we go or whatever we do as long as I'm with my family I'm happy and home.