What Home Means to Me

A home is not a house. A house has just four walls and rooms. A home is where I go when I am sad. Happy. Angry. Calm. Tired. Scared. Surprised. And so much more. Home is a place where I can sleep, I can eat, and again, so much more. I can smell the flowers from all over the house. I can taste the yummy food in my mouth. I can feel safe in my home. I can hear the washing machine cleaning my clothes for me. I can see my beautiful, comfortable, elegant, charming home. A home is where I live. It keeps me safe. A home is where I learn. A home is where I laugh. A home is where I have fun. A home is where my family watches movies, and snuggles up. A home is where I can draw. A home is where I can listen to music. A home can be anything you want it to be. You can do anything in your home. Anything you want because that is your home. At home I write. At home I watch. I do puzzles. I sleep. I do it all because it’s my home. Home means everything to me. It keeps me alive and happy. If I didn’t have a home I wouldn’t see, feel, taste, hear or smell all the things I do. I get hurt sometimes but, being in my home makes me feel 100 times better. Because it’s my home. A home is all of these things and more, and that’s what home means to me.