Home is Where the Heart is

My mother’s soft hands squeeze me and the fireplace is on. I can smell the sweet smell of sugar cookies baking in the oven, my Grandma makes the best. My dad is getting the board games ready. The table is getting set, the sweet hot chocolate in my mouth runs down my throat. The beautiful snow falling outside looks pretty through our window. The cool crisp air fills the doorway as company comes to visit. Inside our home, together we remain warm. Home is where the heart is.