What Home Means To Me

To me home doesn’t mean just a place to sleep, stay, or to eat food. To me home means that I know that I will always have people like my folks to count on when school gets hard or when learning a new skill. I remember when I was little I had a passion for racing. I loved watching my mom, and dad race on their bikes, and I wanted to be just like them, so my dad taught me how to ride a bike so I could race like him. I kept falling, and falling, over and over again, but I never gave up, and at the end finally got it, and now I love biking and racing. A home is not just heating so you can feel warm, it’s to feel the warmth with love and affection from kin, and ally. A home is not just walls and a roof. The walls, and roof are covered with love for kin, and laughter from friends. When I was about nine years old, I had to leave my home for a better school for my sister. I was devastated, especially after my dog died and now leaving my family home that I have been in since birth. I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to leave. I told all my friends at school that this was going to be my last year at the school and they were sad, not as sad as I was but sad. Then at the last day of school I said a farewell to my friends and the people on my street, and then we left, but I got used to this new place to call home, my sister loves her school and her new friends.