Home

At home I see my small grey kitten sleeping in my huge marshmallow-looking white comforter. I see my little sister drawing in her sketchbook at our big brown dining room table. I see home. At home I smell my mom cooking cheesy, garlicy pasta for dinner. I smell my fresh clean sheets fresh out of the dryer. I smell home. At home I feel the soft, fluffy throw blanket on my couch. I feel the hard, smooth plastic of my kitchen chairs. I feel home. At home I taste the homemade fruit punch my dad makes on Christmas eve. I taste ooey gooey smores as we tell ghost stories around the campfire. I taste home. At home I hear my mom's loud music blasting through her Bluetooth speaker. At home I hear my little sister’s favorite show in the background as I do my homework. I hear home.