The meaning of home is being comforted, by the warmth of love. When I get home from school everyday, I smell the scent of cooking, savouring food that I will get to eat. After the food has been eaten, I go upstairs to get ready for bed and see my bedroom, my bed made and ready for another nights sleep in it. When I wake up, I notice I’m at home. I prefer being in a cozy home instead of being in the streets, in the cold, all alone. I enjoy playing Bannana-Grams and Exploding Kittens with my family with the fireplace crackling like a crab loudly snapping. When I am with my family my heart feels like it has melted with happiness and comfort. My body tingles with delight when I get home to see my family with cheer filled hearts. When I imagine the homeless my heart is sorrowful. My home is flawless to me.
If my home was gone, I’d be depressed. My happiness would turn black and dissolve and I could never find a way to be happy. My home is so, so very important to me and I love it so very much. I wish throughout the world, everyone would have a cozy, comfy home. The trees around my house sway merrily in the breezy wind. In the front near my garage, there is a happy tree and every summer will turn a stunning pink and will smile at the sun. My home is not as important without my family. They make me smile every day and they show God’s amazing love each and every day. Home means very much to me and I can’t imagine what life would be like if I did not have a comfortable home.