A Place Called Home

To me home is an emotion. It feels like fresh muffins, just brought out of the oven. It feels like nothing bad could ever happen. Home is where I feel safe. To me home means the world. Without home I would feel empty. Home is where memories are made. Like my mom cooking a chicken in her brand new air fryer. Or the sound of my sister’s laugh. Home sounds like a humming bird humming a tune. It fills me with warmth and energy. My home fuels me and keeps me going. If you ask any one else what home means to them. You’re gonna get a completely different answer than mine. There are things that make my home a home. Like my family, my favorite stuffed bunny and the huge, white, fluffy blanket we all curl up in and watch are favorite TV shows. Every person deserves to have a home and feel loved and needed. Every person deserves to have food and a cozy, comfortable place they call home. To me the meaning of home is belonging. Because you have to feel like you belong in your home. For it to really be a home.