Home

Home is the feeling of security. It is the smell of my dad's homemade pizza. He always says the magic ingredient is love. The smell of cheese and pepperoni is a smell so familiar to me. It is like my mom's big warm hugs when I get home from soccer practices. She is always reminding me that I can do anything if I put my mind to it. Home is busy as a beehive with all my siblings running off to their soccer and hockey practices. When my family is out and I am still home, I walk my dog Fitzroy up the street. I hear the birds chirping and the leaves crunching under my feet. My dog nuzzles at my feet. I feel calm. I smell the delicious foods in neighborhood, like bacon and chicken noodle soup. It makes me terribly hungry. I feel sturdy like a big oak tree, like the ones I see out my window every morning. Home is cozy on my couch where I settle down, under a warm fuzzy blanket with my warm cup of tea. I feel safe here. It is like I am actually in a book, I feel so lucky. Home is the feeling that when I fall it picks me up again. It hears you even if you are quiet. Home is louder in your heart.