Home

When one reflects upon the term "home," it is enticing to evoke visions of bricks, cement, furniture, and a roof overhead. It is embellished with vibrant walls, inviting rooms, and hospitable windows. However, the essence of home surpasses these tangible characteristics. Home represents an ode—a testament to warmth, hope, and deep introspection. This world, my childhood in particular, is a sanctuary- a cocoon of experiences carefully stitched with threads of time and shared moments between various age groups. It is a space where the notion of home encompasses the past and the present, a world wherein dreams spill over into dojos and hoodies with long miniskirts up to the sky. Home is the creaking of the wooden floorboards under one's feet-a sound irritatingly symbolic of the start of yet another day. The scent of brewing coffee mingles with the warmth of a family gathered around the breakfast table in a tapestry of joy that surrounds us. Outside in the garden, colourful flowers bloom behind my small greenhouse, where I look forward to those leisurely family walks and agreeable intermissions. A warm glow in the house, full of laughter and smiles, pushes shadows away, allowing sweet smells to linger in the air and serenity to embrace us. Quite often, I immerse myself in attempting to raise spontaneous stories from our lived past with memories which I one day hope will somehow remain forever. Home means more than just where the heart is; it is a haven that can be described as beautiful and attached. One could almost picture the magical moments when lovers walk hand in hand down the path of a bluish-lit evening with the aroma of pine and serenity. Home is my identity and will remain within me as a boundless place where I am accepted for me.