What Home Means to Me

What home means to me is a place to have fun and be yourself. Home is a place to shine, to be the true you, but there is a thing you can’t buy: memories or a family’s love. I remember having pancakes for breakfast on a sunny day. It makes me happy. The way I feel in my home is peaceful. I feel powerful because of the love and bonds of a family. The warmth of a home is like a blanket, all fuzzy and warm, but the colours of a home don’t matter. It could be as black as night or as white as snow. I like the rain pitter pattering on the roof. At those times I play with my cat. I also pet her. She is gray and soft. She plays on the wooden floor of the living room. She bats a ball round and round. Then I start to pet her. Something I do at home is cook breakfast. I also make toast. I like the smell in the morning. It is sweet. But a home, a soft and fuzzy place to sleep, is a thing not everyone has. I have five people in my home: mom, dad, grandma and papa, and me. I love my home.