Home is where the heart is

My heart was pounding as I stepped up onto the block, about to dive in. I could hear my family cheering, The whistle blew, my arms and feet glide into the water. I looked around to the lanes beside me, I felt determined to win this race. I touched the wall, then looked over to my parents and began to cry, as I saw that everybody was already there. I got home late that night, while I was driving home, I was thinking of how I could have done better, how I could have won. But as I stepped into my home all those feelings flew far, far away. My heart melted as I saw my family jump up from their seats and run to give me a hug. My brother had just got back from a ski trip far away, I started to cry with happy tears as they talked to me. That night in my bed as I was trying to fall asleep, I thought about home, how I made me feel, how it smelled and what it looked like. That night I realized that home isn't about the furniture, not about the size, not about the rooms or the windows. It's about feelings, love, memories, and family. Thats why home is where the heart is.