What Home Means To Me

I’ve lived in the same house my whole life! My mom lives there. My sister lives there. My dad lives there. We have a tall oak tree in our front yard and some grass in the backyard. In the winter, my sister and I make snow angels, and in the summer, we run through the sprinkler. I love all of these things and they make me happy, but the one thing that makes it all a home is my dog, Bruce. Bruce is twelve years old. Bruce wags his tail and barks for belly rubs every time I come home. He was there when my aunt and uncle got married, and when my grandma died, and when my baby sister was born. Bruce always knows when I need snuggles and he’s the best taste tester when I help my mom cook breakfast. Whenever I see Bruce, my heart says I’m at home. And even though Bruce is growing old and the fur around his eyes is getting white, I know that for Bruce, I am his home. In my heart, I will love Bruce forever because we are buddies, no matter what. A house is nice to have, but a real home is when you live inside somebody’s heart. Bruce will have a home in my heart forever and it says that he’s my home too.