What Home Means to Me

Home is a place where you feel loved. Where you feel far, far, away in a different place.A place where you can do whatever you feel like doing, or be whatever you feel like being. I get up, put on my slippers, and walk upstairs. I can hear my parent’s footsteps rumbling across the creaky wooden floor. Once I reach the door, I realize something. The beautiful smell! I open the door and see waffles laid out on the table, and bacon sizzling on the frying pan. The syrup stares at me with longing to be drunk. I sit down and devour the waffles. I look at the orange juice and take a gulp. A warm, bubbly feeling washes over me. I look down and see my adorable dog staring up at me. I can see a twinkle in his eyes. I lay down and let him lick my face. It was the best cuddle ever because I love him a lot! Later that night, when I’m trying to sleep, I listen to the rain bouncing off the roof. It sounds magical. And that’s what home means to me.