There's Nothing Like Home

A home can vary in our minds, in our hearts and look different through our eyes, but at the end of the day, it has a similar but unique meaning for each individual person. To me, it means a third story apartment, but what I also consider home is the land around it. Seagulls are as abundant as ants here in Burnaby. They often soar in the usually clouded skies. Sometimes they swoop down to pick up snacks off the floor. During the summers, I often go to Lynn Canyon or the Capilano Dam where I hike amongst the biggest trees. Here I can almost feel the Earth pulsing with life. Home to me is also in my apartment which feels so familiar and safe. When I come back on a cold day, there's a feeling of relief when I step through the threshold. A feeling of warmth rushes over me, erasing the cold. Through my window I see the trees change with each season, branches bare and covered in snow throughout winter, and then during the spring and summer they practically burst with life. During the fall, leaves turn golden then drift off to the ground only for the cycle to happen once again. In my room everything is so familiar, so memorable, the stained wooden plank floor and pearl white walls and the bookshelf in the corner. Everything feels so natural. Just as I think home should be like.