A Place Called Home

Home is the place where I awaken to peer out my bedroom window, relieved that at last it is Saturday, a day to enjoy with my family. As I gaze out of the window, I see some blue-green boughs of the old spruce tree, that reaches its arms above my home, as if it’s stretching for the sky. This tree is special. It can only be seen from my window, like a secret… and it is my tree. This tree is part of my home. I quickly dress and make my bed. Then I bounce down the stairs like a puppy full of energy and race to the kitchen, smelling a delicious breakfast of pancakes with maple syrup. My parents, my brother, and I join at our dining table to begin this special day, with a special breakfast. The taste of the golden syrup washes over my tongue like a wave of sweetness. We eat and talk, planning our day, sharing ideas, listening to each other, and asking for help. I am a part of my family, and this family is part of my home. I savour the moment, being a part of my family. This home strengthens me for the world outside, a caring and supportive place for my family. I am a part of this home, and this home is part of me.