What does home mean to me?

At home, as I sit on my creaky leveled bed, the sun says hello with a bright smile. As I walk out the door, along the living room I hear the constant chatter of noise. The toys scattered, with the addition of the scent of the steamy strokes of air the humidifier shared. While I make it to the diner table, the cool night breeze creeps within my body. Once dinner is over, I watch with the imps of my blood. We watch nonstop, we all act as if we had always treasured each other so dearly. Until chores that is, the arguing, the everlasting quarrel..though it's usually not forever. Despite that it's still a hassle. “Hurry up!”, for if in the bathroom the knocks don't stop. impudent,impatient the words that describe their pretty attitude goes on. But alas, we have relaxation, and solitary work at times. We take time to do various things. The sound of pencils scribing, the “tap tap” of countless gadgets. The sound of numerous toys falling against the hard rock floor. Finally , it is time to rest. But this is just like any other day. You could feel the warmth of the bed, the soft fluff of your pillow. We can't forget our dear blanket, of course. That would always save us from the dreadful terrors that we thought awaited our sight, we had dreamt the fright had managed to follow our every whereabout. Right..before you know it, your eyes are fluttering, your must be brain decluttering, and well..you shut down as the next day makes its next arrival.