My Home

For me, home starts before I even get through the front door. It’s seeing my dog in the window, her tail going crazy because she’s so happy I’m back. The second I walk in, that "dinner’s almost ready" smell hits me, and honestly, it’s the best feeling in the world. If I’ve had a rough day, there’s usually a warm cookie waiting for me, which basically fixes everything. My house is never quiet, but that’s why I love it. It’s my little brothers running circles around me to show off something new they found, and even my older sister being "annoyed" when she catches me in her clothes (even though she knows I'm going to wear them anyway). It’s the way my dad has always been there to pick me up when I wipe out, and the way my mom still tucks me in at night so I feel totally safe. Whether we’re out camping in the woods or just piled on the couch for a movie night, it’s the same feeling. I’ve realized that I could be anywhere in the world, but as long as I’m with them, I’m home. It’s not just a place where I sleep—it’s the people who make me feel like I totally belong. That's what home is to me.