Meaning of Home

My home is privacy, uncomfortableness, family and lots of other feelings. The comfort of being home isn’t the structure, it's the feelings and family. Privacy feels like home. Privacy is in the music slowly washing away my other feelings while I sing along. The feeling of privacy is in the darkness that surrounds me as I think. The scruffy paper erases its whiteness as I write and the sound of the pencil writing on the paper has the feeling of privacy until someone walks in to tell me something. The feeling of privacy in my home is as rare as air and it's the best feeling. Discomfort feels like home. Screeching meowing emits from my cats and carries down the hall, delivered to my ears, annoying me until I come out and put them outside. The words I see when I go back into my bedroom of what my family has said annoys me until they go away or I fall asleep. The damp air I taste when someone is taking a shower makes me feel uncomfortable, only to get worse when someone opens the bathroom door. Every uncomfortable thing in my house makes it feel more like home. My family is what makes my home. Every feeling in my home is the materials and family are the tools. Loud footsteps above, screaming that won't stop, but the loudness in my house to me isn't screaming but family just making noise. Family is when our small family of six meets in the woods to play, find animal bones and have fun. The way me and my step-brother cooperate when we all play games has that feeling of family but after a few rounds we’re natural enemies. I’m grateful for the family I have. You can build a home anywhere as long as family is with you. Habitat for Humanity is giving low income people the comfort of a house to bring their family together.