What home means to me

Home is a safe place for you and your family where you can share memories. It’s not just any normal house, it’s a place, no matter where you are, that you will always have a piece of inside your heart. and a feeling that you get when somewhere is filled with the things that you take inside. That makes it your home. For me, a part of what my home is is smelling my mom’s aromatic cooking in the kitchen every day when I get home from school. Sure, it may last a short time, but without smelling it, that first part of feeling like I’m home is gone. Another part of it is long after I arrive, where me and my brother have sleepless nights filled with arguing, fighting, but in the end, it all amounts to laughter. And without the fighting and laughter given from those nights, my home would become more dull and less exciting. It’s greeting my family, a dad, a mom, a brother, and our cat, Cuddles, which fits perfectly into our home. And without seeing my family, my home feels awfully quiet. It’s a roof over not just us, but over our memories, which might make us burst into tears, or they might make laugh and smile just thinking about them, like losing an object dear to you, or a stuffy you might have which you just love to cuddle with every single day, or finding that stuffy after a long time. Without the memories made in my home, it would almost feel like it’s just an empty house with nothing to it. Every time that Habitat for Humanity builds a house, it becomes a home to them as well, so thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Home is where I roam.