Home to Me

Home Home to me is the feeling of belonging. If my home were filled with judgment, it wouldn't be the same. Our Home has many rooms, but the one that my family really bonds together in is the living room. Buttery popcorn stains the leather couch as we watch “Home Alone ” for the 3rd time this year. The popcorn machine, whirring away in the kitchen, trying to keep up with our consumption. The fire, crackling away in its grate by our other two couches, is on the other end of the rooms, where the adults escape while the children play noisy video games. Mornings were spent huddled together around the same fireplace that we forgot to turn off, still burning bright. Smells of eggs and bacon waft in through the open door, leading to the kitchen. My hamster, Dusty, can be heard from where she resides, next to the kitchen table, running on her squeaky wheel. Dusty is the heart and soul of the house. Our living room is the type that needs some non-human life in it. She creates this aura of love when she squeaks, letting anyone pick her up. Anyone who looks at her will think of a big teddy bear. “YEAH!” screams my brother as he scores a goal in Wii Sports. The TV gives a soft wiring to let my brother know that he’s being too boisterous with his controller. Something flies over my head and looking over, I see that my dad decided to take off his socks and throw them at me. My dad adds the goofy feel of our residence. In conclusion, a home is a place where I feel safe and wonderful. A home is a place where my family is, where all the worries of the world are washed away, and where memories are made.