What Home Means to Me

When my parents came here, which they were from the Philippines, they first went looking for the perfect house to live in. My mom suggested a big house, but my dad suggested a small house. The house my mom suggested overlooked a field and had a beautiful backyard and was white as snow, but the house my dad suggested, which we are living in right now, had a very small backyard with a tree in the middle of a garden and the house was brown. Eventually they agreed with the house my dad picked, and they moved in. And then I was born. My mom told me one time that she and dad went outside with me to plant cedarwood in our backyard, and I was watching and playing with my toys, and it was almost the same age as me. My mom showed me this video when I was probably one year old, and I was walking around the house just saying one thing: DADDY! My dad was at work, so that was why I was walking around just saying that. Then when I was six, I'm pretty sure, my dad was replacing the floor tiles in the kitchen and all around the house. My brother was born way before that, and we were just watching him. My dad repairs the house sometimes, and right now some parts of the walls upstairs and in the bathroom are white because my dad cut the wall to fix something, but he was just replacing the bathroom light switch.