Meaning of Home-Fictional Story

Meaning of Home Fictional Story- HOME To me, a home is a lot different than a house. Hello, my name is Emma. I found out what it feels like to have a home one year ago. I am 12 years old, I lived on the streets in Windsor for 11 years. Habitat for humanity built my mom, sister, and I a home. Now that you know a bit about me, here’s my life story. I was born in Detroit. My aunt brought my mom and I to Canada before my little sister was born, we would’ve lived with her, but she died from a heart attack, when I was just 2 months old. My mom and I lived on the streets in Windsor for years. A few nights a week, my mom and I would go to a local soup kitchen for food. When I was 5 my little sister Emily was born. I never met her birth dad, same for my birth dad. My little sister was born just before the winter of 2018, it was cold. We lived under a bunch of cardboard. We had 2 blankets from a local nearby charity. And Emily would sleep on a dirty sweater since that is what we had. She would cry multiple times a night, it was always hard to sleep. Until Habitat for Humanity found out about us and built us a home. It took quite a bit, but when it was finally finished, we met the house. There was everything a house was supposed to have. A fridge and stove in the kitchen, a couch in the living room, a dining table, a bedroom that had a crib for Emily, a bathroom with a sink, a toilet, and a shower. It was warm, it protects us from rain, snow, and thunderstorms. We weren’t all huddled under a box, we could spread out. A year or 2 later there were already cherished memories, laughing and having fun with each other creating more and more memories. My mom had met a guy named Mike; he was kind. He always comforted Emily when she was upset, since she was only 3. Around 11 months later, they got married. And Mike was officially my stepdad. Thank you, Habitat for Humanity for building my family a home.