Home, A Safe Place

When I think of home an object comes to mind. A memory that I can safely call mine. A simple teddy bear might not be much to you, but what you don’t know is that I've had it since I was two. My home isn’t just four walls and a roof. For me it’s memories that can’t just go ‘poof’. Home is where memories are set in place. For more memories I have a lot of space. My home is where I don’t hide from my fears, I’m not afraid I’ll just wipe my tears. My home as a sight would be the sun rising in the morning getting ready to glow. If my home was a taste it would be one that is quick to know. If you could feel my home you would feel comforting arms hugging you when you don’t feel like you can say. If you could smell my home it would be the most refreshing breath of air on a cold winter day. If you could hear my home, laughter and joy would fill the air, how much you would laugh if a cat was braiding hair.