What Is Home?

Home is the smell of haleem when I get back from school the taste of it melting in my mouth. Home is hearing my parents ask how my day was, and telling them every little detail. Home is the wall where my parents mark my sisters’ and my height, reminding me how small I used to be. It feels like memories are hidden in that wall. Home is the feeling of sitting on the couch, warm and cozy under a blanket. I belong to more than one place. Pakistan, which I'm proud to also call my home. Home is waking up to the sound of adults talking, my cousins laughing and playing. It’s the noise from the kitchen that tells me breakfast is waiting downstairs. Home is smelling those pancakes and tasting them melt in my mouth, reminding me how much I missed them. Home is going downstairs to greet my grandparents, asking them, “How are you?” Home is going outside in the hot weather to play cricket, even though I don’t really know how. It makes my cousins mad. They throw the ball over the fence to the neighbours Then we get in trouble. Home is when my cousins and I have a horror movie marathon And after we try to scare each other. Though Canada can be boring, That's what makes it Canada. Though Pakistan can be messy, That's what makes it Pakistan. That's what makes home.