Kimia

Grade 6

Ancaster
Ontario

HOPE FOR MY HOME

Hi, my name is Anna and I’m going to tell you a story that happened about two years ago. I had just come back from school, I shouted with glee, “ I’m home!” But no one answered. Then, I remembered that my dad was working late and my mom was running some errands. I was ten at the time, most ten year olds would be scared to stay home alone, but I’m wasn’t. I get. A feeling at home ( since I’ve lived there my whole life). The house is like a part of me, a friend, and being home alone with a friend makes you feel less scared, right? I went to my room, changed my clothes and started my homework. As was finishing, I heard the door opening, I was confused and a little scared since both my parent should be been home by 7:00 pm, not 5:00 pm! I slowly and quietly opened the door and went downstairs to see who it was with 911 dialled into the home phone. When I saw who it was I was relieved, it was dad. Why is he home so early? I asked him and in a gloomy voice. He said,“ The company I work at is starting to lose money and they couldn’t afford all their employees, I got laid out.” I was devastated, but I was hoping he would find a job soon. When my mom came home, my dad told her the bad news. They were trying to figure out what to do. In the morning, as I was eating my breakfast, my parents told me they would be trying to act fast and try to earn some money by selling our furniture! I wasn’t happy about it since every piece of furniture had many memories. The couch was where I sat when my dad told me I won an art contest, our living room table, where we sit every Friday night to watch a movie and eat dinner. Anyways, every few weeks a piece of furniture would be missing when I came home. There was one day that I remember, it was the day my parents told me that we can’t afford our house anymore and we were going to move. I ran to my room as fast as I could with tears in my eye thinking about every second that I had spent in this house. This was my childhood home, the house I’ve lived in since I was a baby. My parents tried not to look sad, but I could see the sadness in their eyes. We moved out in a couple weeks. The new house was like a normal regular house, not a HOME. I didn’t really know where everything was by heart and there was no love or comfort in it. My dad was struggling to find a job, I felt like my parents were losing hope, but I wasn’t. We couldn’t afford that house anymore and we didn’t have any family to help us where we lived because we moved here for my dad to get his old job. Both my parents families aren’t rich either so they wouldn’t be able to help too much. We stayed in homeless shelters most of the time. At first, we were happy to sign up and we had hope, but we soon began to lose it, well, at least my parents did. I still had the slightest feeling like I was at home. Maybe it was because I was still with my family? One day we found out that there was a home for us! When I saw it didn’t look like my first home, but it looked like a house that could become a home. After a while, my dad found a job! I have made enough memories to call this house my new home now. The lesson here is that a home isn’t a home without family, memories, and most importantly, love.