What My Home Means To Me

I have moved once in my life. I adored my old home and I love my new home. I have laughed, cried, screamed, sang and danced in both homes. Yet, I never realized that both homes meant so much to me. Every year, every summer, my family and I drive 12 hrs up north where we used to live. We always visit our old home and our friends. It makes me feel so joyous just to see it. It's like I’m covered in a blanket of bliss. For me, the meaning of home is a place where I can be me, where I can feel safe, content, loved, and where I can feel free. I can have a mansion, an apartment, or a house, but no matter where I live my home won't disappear. A home is a place where memories are made. It's where I first learned to walk, run, it’s where I learned how to communicate with my family. It's where I learned to cook and where I spend time with my family. It’s where life blossoms and where memories never end. A house is a structure that I live in, though a home is more of a feeling. A home is somewhere after a long day you can’t wait to go. It’s a place where family, love, and happiness lies. At the end of every day I get to see my family and my pets, we always hang out, and we love each other till the very end. As I watch the sizzling fire slowly burn out, I think of how special I am to have a home, not a house, but a home.