Home Sweet Home
Home. Safety. Comfort. Loving people. Home means all of those things to me. But it also means that we were blessed with the money to have a home. Home can mean many different things for many different people. But for me, it means love, and it also just means home. For other people home means a country, province, state, an apartment.
Homes are very important. And for some people, home means “family”. A house is not a home, a home is family and love, and a house is a house waiting to be a home, but a home isn’t a home without love. There are small homes, big homes, and medium homes. But homes can be any shapes and sizes, and as long as there’s people that I love, I can call it home.
My mother is nice and loving, my dad is nice and encouraging, my brother is fun and thoughtful, and my dogs are helpful and keep me fit. Without all of those things, I don’t think I would be able to make my house a home. When I wake up, the sunshine is on my face making me feel warm inside and my dog at the end of my bed keeping my feet warm. When I get up, I let the dogs out, I can hear the soft, beautiful, clear voice of the birds singing. When I get back inside, the warm air from the indoors warms me up soon in comfort. I can smell and see the pumpkin spice candle burning out in peace. Every morning I wake up to that, and without any of that, I wouldn’t feel at home.