What Home Means to Me

My family and I used to live in the city where we didn’t really feel at home. Then we moved to an almost 100 year old house that was small and cramped for a family of six. But it wasn’t all bad. It had a barn and we got animals. Animals were one of the things us kids wanted most. We lived in that small house for almost three years, and we survived. We had many precious moments at that farm, like when our dog had puppies (twice), and when our cat had kittens. That was the first house that I had a real connection with. We have moved about as many times as I am old, which is about eleven times. My family and I have probably never lived in a house for two years before, so I had a real connection with it. At first I had refused to move to the house I live in right now because I felt like I needed to stay and take care of the animals and stuff like that. But what made me really connect to that house was all the renovations we did. We renovated my room and that was when I was securely committed to the house. I loved that house and still do but the thing is, is that that house is still ours, even though we moved. We live two miles away from our old house and we drive there every day to feed our cows, horses and dogs. We rented out our old house to somebody who we can trust. So we can rely on him to take care of our beloved house that we held so dear to us. And that is what that home meant to me.