Home: More Than Just A House

Jason hopped onto the bus with his backpack tight, Inside was an assignment that was due tonight. “What is Home?” the paper asked in bold ink. Jason sat down and stopped to think. He asked the kid with sneakers unblemished and new, “What does home mean to you?” “A mansion,” the kid said with a grin. “With a crystal blue pool and a slide to dive in.” The second kid laughed, and said with pride, “Home’s my room with my games inside. Lights and screens all over the wall." Jason wrote it all down, but it almost felt like nothing at all Near the back sat a quiet kid, Eyes on the floor. Jason had noticed once before. He walked past, unsure what to say, But he turned back around and asked anyway. The quiet kid spoke, “We lost our home; we had to flee. We came from far, crossing miles of sea. Now we live in a place that seems cramped to me.” “But home,” he said, lifting his head, “Is where my family sits and laughs. Home is the hands that hold me tight, The voices I hear each day and night. It’s sharing meals and staying near, Feeling safe when my family is here.” Jason closed his eyes and thought for a moment. He wrote: Home is chaos stitched together, While laughter echoes as dishes clatter. It’s the voice of my baby brother, Who makes me feel better like no other. It’s pictures of my family smiling happily, Some who are no longer here, but always with me. Without this, a home is just a house with wood and stone, Not surrounded by my favorite memories, I would be alone. So, to me, home is love wherever we are, We carry it with us near and far.