My home is love

A home is not a house. A house has four walls and a roof. A home has the feeling of love and joy. A home has family that supports you during the darkest times. My home has the aroma of my mom’s baking that fills the kitchen with happiness. When I take the first bite of the fresh cookies, I feel warm inside. I used to live in Toronto where most of my family lives. Now I live in Winnipeg. One night a week my parents and I play games. Our favourite board game to play is Sorry! A joke my parents and I have is “I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry!” It fills my home with laughter. Because I’m separated from my family, they like to visit. When they do, our home is their hotel. It’s free of charge, except for lots of hugs - they always owe me lots of hugs. So it’s not really free! My home makes me feel safe. When I’m scared with a loud noise that frightens me, I know that my home is there for me and I am protected. At my home, my Dad and I have a lot of fun. In the winter, we build toboggan runs in my backyard. The turns can be nasty, and I wear a helmet when they are. But my Dad is always there to protect me, just in case. Without home, I will feel upset like I’m missing something inside of me. There would be no fun, no hugs, no family visits, no game nights and no cookies. It would be hard to survive. So what does home mean to me? My home is love.