Home

Home has different meanings to different people. To some, home is like a warm hug that holds memories. To me, home is a welcoming and restful place that embraces my race and nurtures my identity. Each part of my house has a different meaning to me. The kitchen is filled with mouth-watering nostalgic aromas. The noise, chaos, warmth, and comfort of my mother’s cooking, as well as our kitchen tales and escapades, will stay with me for my whole life. My mom makes different types of delectable dishes, around which our whole family comes together in the cozy kitchen. I would never be able to find this type of taste anywhere else in the world. The living room is filled with a timeline of photos and albums that represent different landmarks and milestones for our family. It forms the lifeline and a sort of epicenter of the house, as it is a treasure trove of shared memories- a baby’s first steps to grandma's toothy tales. My bedroom makes me feel content and is the most peaceful corner of my house. When I run my fingers down the walls, a magical and warm feeling runs down my spine. I first shared it with my brother, but now I have it to myself. It is my own personal haven. The sight of my mom cooking in the kitchen, my dad on the sofa, and my siblings watching TV. are just a few of the things that differentiate my home from a house.