My Meaning of Home

The sounds of the rain pattering on the window… the lightning lighting up the whole room…the feeling of war air rushing up your blanket. Sitting at the window with my siblings at night all huddled up in a blanket on top of the vent that’s shooting warm air. Imagine a place, where your mind can open up and be free, where comfort is everything. A house is bricks, wood and maybe a few windows, but home is everlasting love, comfort and the smell of fresh cookies, straight from the oven! A house is not a home, and a home is not a house. A house is shelter but a home is life. Home is like the comfort I feel when I come home from school and my dogs tail starts wagging powerful enough to knock down buildings! Home isn’t about my house, but its where I feel most happy. In a house there’s furniture and walls. In a home there’s memories and cherished items, like the blanket that has been sitting on my bed since I was born keeping me warm since day one. (Rhyme not intended)