What Home Means to Me

Home, it isn’t just a building, it’s where everyone that loves you and that knows your faults gathers around. There might be crying and siblings teasing, but there will always be better results. Home is like a story, but it’s not a comedy or a tragedy, it’s both. For example: you’ll be grieving a family member’s death and then you’ll be having fun around the table so that it’s not so tough. It all might be overwhelming to the point where you just need to sit outside and think, while the birds just chirp. Life goes on in your home, and you just miss out. When you’re overwhelmed in your home, feeling frustrated and annoyed, it is usually love, family, culture and sometimes even religion that bring you back to that meaning of home. My house may be small, weird, and unfinished, but it’s where some of my best memories are shared. I am always loved, cared for, and appreciated, even though it doesn’t always seem like it. It may be complicated and nonsensical. In this place it is supposed to be confusing, but in the end, all does make sense, and will eventually make sense and that is what home means to me.