A House Is Not A Home

I could live in a cardboard box; it would not be a home I could live in a mansion; it would not be a home I could live on the countryside; it would not be a home I could live in the city; it would not be a home I could live in the desert; it would not be a home I could live in the Arctic; it would not be a home I could live anywhere in the world, alone; it would not be a home But if I lived in any of these places with my family, they would be home A house doesn’t make a home; it’s the memories inside of it, the happiness, the joy, the family that makes a home The walls protect you, sure, but the real warmth in the home is the laughter, the kindness, the connections made inside of them