This is what my home means to me.
Some people think that a home has four walls and a roof. But to me that’s a house. To me my home is where my family lives, it’s where I have memories and where I can also make new ones. I had a dog named Hazel but when she passed away it felt like a piece of my home was missing and it still does. It’s where I’m contented, but it’s also where I’m sorrowful. It’s where I feel cherished and loved. Home is where I get to spend time with my loved ones. It’s where I feel safe and it’s where I go to keep me warm and safe. My home is a place where I can be myself without feeling judged. It’s where I’ve lost family, but it’s also where I might get new family. It’s where I’ve had some of the best times in my life, but it’s also where I’ve had the worst. It’s where I have and I still will grow up.
I also try to remember that there are people that aren’t as fortunate as me to have a home. They might have to live outside in the cold, trying to find other peoples scraps to be able to survive. To me my home to me is something that not everybody gets, or maybe some people do but not one that’s good enough to live. Maybe they can’t pay rent or mortgage for it. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a home. There are no words that can describe how blessed and grateful I am to have a home. That is what my home means to me.