Home Holds Memories

Everything in my life revolves around my home. It is the place where my days begin and end, no matter how exhausting they become. The kitchen is always alive, filled with the smell of freshly prepared meals. There is always food waiting for me—food that creates instant cravings better than anything from a restaurant, because it is made with care and love. My home feels permanent because my parents are always there, supporting me, guiding me, and reminding me to go for more even when I doubt myself. My family home really starts with my brother. He shows his love through nonstop teasing, sarcasm, and perfectly timed roasts. If sarcasm were an Olympic sport, he would take home multiple gold medals without breaking a sweat. But behind all of that humor is someone reliable and kind. When things truly matter, he never leaves me. His presence alone means more to me than any emotional speech about love, because knowing he is there makes my home feel complete. I play my music at full volume without worrying about criticism. I sing badly, dance dramatically, and act like I’m starring in a movie no one else asked to see. No one yells at me to stop. No one ever shows up—and that is perfectly fine. I step onto the basketball court with my brother and lose every single game. Still, I keep playing. Confidence matters, even when it is completely undeserved. The horrible jokes, the competition, and the familiar frustration all feel good. Home is built from these moments the loud ones, the quiet ones, and the small, forgettable seconds that eventually become important memories. It is where I belong. Thank you Habitat for Humanity for giving people homes!