My Home

My home is where I get to be me. It is where I am safe. It is where I can just sit on our couch with my books and relax. My home has scented air that smells like warm bread. It fills my nose, just like wood burning up in a fire. The pages in my book are written nicely and neatly. Flipping through the pages so quickly nearly burns my hand. It feels like ants are crawling on my fingers. Just outside, I catch a glimpse of birds chirping and soaring through the sky. They look so beautiful as they perch near our living room window. ¨Dinner is ready¨, I hear my mom shout. I close the book and walk to the kitchen, And the book is nearly finished…