Home to Me
Home can mean a lot of different things, to a lot of different people. In my opinion, there’s not a wrong way of explaining home, or a wrong way of interpretating it, unless you think it is a flavour of sauce to put on your hotdog, then again, I’m eleven, so, just becauce I write something doesn’t mean that it’s correct, not that an age defines a person’s inteligence. Getting back to what I was saying, to me, it’s about how see things. To some, home is a building,(walls, rooms) to others, (including myself) ther’s a difference between a house, and a home. To me, a house is an object in your life, a home is part of your life, a place to grow both physicaly and mentaly. Home is a place to feel like you belong. It’s to feel safe, and cry, celebrate, share your beleifs,and be you in. Safely inside, you can feel comforted by the fact that you know the people around you understand you and love you with unconditional love. So appreciate your home and the people inside it. This is my interpretation of home.