The Smell of Love in a Warm Home

A home is not just a building; it’s where the heart feels the warmest. Like a vault of our greatest memories, like when I said my first Tagalog word. It was a sunny day when I was playing with my toy blocks, then I said Kalot [Tagalog for mess]. Although it was not impressive, it made my mom happy in a way that words cannot describe. A few steps over here and we’re inside the kitchen. When I did not have school, my mom and my uncle would make the most tasty, airy, soft muffins with a gorgeous aroma that no bakery could replicate. For me, home is a warm hug filled with joy, laughter, love, and delicious food at the dinner table, like my mom’s pineapple ham. Once she serves the plates and we get settled, we talk about our day because it’s not just about the food. It’s about the stories we share while eating. Usually after we eat, we play a bord game which is usually Labyrinth. We always have fun. It helps take my mind off stress and other bad things. Home is like an art piece waiting to be signed.