What Home Means to Me

I’m home. I walk in the front door, I smell the aromas of my moms great cooking, I know my dad and brother are here because I can feel the positivity as I walk into the kitchen! I see the homemade brownies on a plate waiting for me. In the kitchen I feel faint as I smell the divine brownies. I eat one. I can tell there is one missing. I already know my dad took one. As I walk into the living room, my kitty greats me. I kiss her on the forehead as I say, “good kitty”. When I enter the living room, I catch a glimpse of all the memories, as I see my parents full of joy ready to listen to all my stories. They ask me about my day, and I say it is history what a mystery! I walk into the dining room; I feel the warmth. My cheeks turn pink as I see the dinner table, it reminds me of greeting family and friends. As I am walking through the dining room, I see my dog bed thinking of the memories I spent with him, missing him very much. I walk up the stairs. I view my parents room remembering the small child joys filling the room. Waking my parents for Christmas day, unwrapping gifts there as a family, it was the best! I walk in my room smell my blanky, it makes me feel joy. My room is my hideout. What else would it be, it’s my safe space to calm me. All the good sleeps empowers the room. I glimpse in my brother’s room all the clothes on the floor, how I missed it. I went back to my room thinking how happy to be back, not a care in the world so I drift off to sleep, dreaming of being home.