When I Think of Home

When I think of home, I feel my Amma and Acha’s warm hugs making me feel safe and snug, and that feels just right. When I think of home, I hear my grandma and grandpa calling to check on me and my family, and that feels just right. When I think of home, I feel like I belong, by my family’s warmth and existence, and that feels just right. When I think of home, I think of how much my family cherishes me and adores me, and that feels just right. When I think of home, I smell the delicious scent of Dosa, that fills the room, and that feels just right. When I think of home, I feel all the memories that hug me tight, and that feels just right. When I think of home, I feel like I have somewhere to go and feel safe and comfortable, nothing can match with my home, and that feels just right. If any of this falls apart it will never feel like home, a house more like all the memories and my lovely family. I will never be myself, I will never be me. My home is a part of me and I will never let go of my home.