You might not think that you’re lucky to have a home, but you are because some people don’t have one. You might have a house, but you might not have a home. My name is Claire, I’m homeless.
I live on a stairwell with my parents. I don’t have any siblings, but I have parents. My mom works at a factory and my dad got fired recently, so we usually only get dinner. We are one of the luckier homeless people because no one in my family has any illnesses and we have some money to buy food. We know a lot of other families that have experienced a death in the family. We sleep at the bottom of the stairwell, all we have is three blankets for us to use, they are very thin, but I’m thankful we have any. At night I dream about a home for my family.
I don’t dream about a house, I dream about a home. A house is a building with walls and doors. A home is a place where you can sit with your family and friends and enjoy a meal together. You have to love a house for it to become a home. The home that I picture for my family is not too big, but a place that has enough room for me and my parents.
I wonder if living in a home would allow me to go to school, or have a cozy bed, or have money for me to spend on new clothes or books. I don’t care what my home would look like because as long as I feel safe, warm and comfortable in my home and my home will bring my family together, I’m hopeful that we might get a home.