What Home Means to Me

It is the memories that make a house a home. Some memories you cannot remember but your parents tell you, like your first footsteps, or your 1st birthday, or your first word. Mine was "mama". It could be my first time coming home - the joy that filled the room was amazing. I have also made new memories in my home such as me making horrible cake and giving it to my dad. I am sure that it was half cooked. Or my first time making a snowman with its slanted head in my backyard. The happiest look that filled my eyes staring at that snowman. I have lived in 4 countries and been in 5 houses, but I have gotten attached to only two homes- one in my mother country and my home here in Canada. These memories cannot be bought or given. You must make them. If you think about it the earth, it is a big house. It is a big house slowly filling up to be a home. Thank you to Habitat For Humanity for everything you do!