Home Is Where My Heart Is

Home isn’t just a place on a map, it’s a place where my heart stays, it's being surrounded by family and friends, and memories of special days. When I think about my home, I don’t see four walls, I don’t see floors and I don’t see random halls. I see a place where memories are made, where laughter fills the rooms even after light begins to fade. When I walk up to my home, I don’t see just a door, I see a portal to happy memories and know there will be more. When I walk inside my home, it’s like a warm embrace, when I’ve had a bad day it puts a smile on my face. When I walk into my home, I think “what a place!” I think of conversations shared that makes everyone laugh when family fills this space. When I walk into the kitchen, I don’t see a total mess, and even if I do, I don’t love it any less. When I look out the window, I see a sea of blue, I see the waves crash against the shore, the blue water cold and pure. When I step outside in summer, I can smell the salty air, and the wind whipping off of the sea gets caught in my strands of hair. When I open the door to my room, I feel nice and warm, despite it being as cold as an autumn storm. When I go out onto the porch, I remember when my grandparents lived here, and how they passed us the torch. When I look into the forest, I see branches covered with snow, and hear the distant caw of a crow. After the day is done I go to rest my head, as I sleep in my cozy little bed.