The Sense of Home

The house may cost a fee,but love is free. If my home were senses, the smell would be the scent of spaghetti boiling on the hot stove after a tiring day of school and once it's ready,the smell of the stringy melted cheese hits. If my home were senses,the taste would be the incredible flavour of a peanut butter and honey sandwich and the sweet,sticky honey with the salty,nutty peanut butter mixing into the fresh and fluffy bread. If my home were senses,the sound would be my grandma doing the dishes as each dish makes a clashing noise and the sound of a strumming guitar of a song my father plays for me as each note makes a beautiful rhythm. If my home were senses,the feeling would be the feeling of my childhood stuffed animal.The soft brown fabric and the hairy looking darker brown texture on the plush toy,and the tag with the word “webkinz” and the warn out letters of my initials on with my aged messy writing. If my home were senses,the vision would be my family sitting at the table eating bacon and eggs with toast for breakfast on a nice saturday morning,us all chuckling and cheerful with my dad’s red and black housecoat eating with me,my sister, and my mom all happy. And yes it may be a small city,but the view is quite pretty. My home is perfect for me.