A home to me

A girl wakes up, setting her feet upon the shaggy wool carpet. She walks towards the plain white door, stepping out of the bedroom and into a world anything but plain. On a hill, overlooking the boundless sea, there is a quaint white house with a thriving garden. It might not be her actual house, but this is where she has spent her years, this is home. She walks across the wooden boards towards the kitchen, fresh sourdough and avocado already waiting. Then, after a quick change and a walk across the road, she’s at the beach. The salty air pulls her sun hat from her head. Her mom and dad alternate between throwing the ball into the frigid waves for her dogs and helping her look for crabs under the barnacle drenched rocks. Once her palms are covered in millions of miniature creatures, her parents warn her that it’s time to leave. Nevertheless, she steals and extra half hour to meticulously find the perfect home for each crab, watching them burrow deep into the grainy sand. They hop into their car and drive down the winding ocean road towards town. Whimsical is the word that undoubtedly best describes it. This is where she knows the best fish and chips, the most exquisite ice cream and where most of her baby clothes had been bought. Once home, she eagerly races to feel her feet back on the sand. By the time her parents get there, she’s already in the crystalline water. She swims for hours, watching fish dart through her legs and keeps her feet off the rocks where crabs scuttle with claws raised high. Eventually, they trudge up the steps and into the house. This is where she truly feels blessed for each minute spent… a house called home.