Home

Many people think home is a place or one thing. But home is many things. Here is what home means to me. Home means staring out your clear window, and seeing beautiful confederation park and neighbors in their garden. Home is every night, a hot and yummy home cooked meal. Home means baking cookies, smelling their scrumptious scent, and having to wait for them to cool down. Then, the cookies slowly disappear into our stomachs. Home means driving for what feels like forever, to get to Nana's and Papa’s farm, getting out of the snow covered car and then going sledding and skidding down the hill, getting flung off the sled and building snow forts with papa. Home is Nana's and mom’s homemade cheese biscuits, sausage stew, a turkey and apple crisp with ice cream. Home is also my mom’s friend Uffa’s homemade Swedish crepes with whipped cream and Lincoln berry jam. Home is chocolate mayonnaise cake on my birthday coated with icing, singing happy birthday in English, French, and Swedish. Home is on vacation. Home is a toasting marshmallow burning to a crisp on a fire, and a cheese smokie tosting right beside them, and watching the campfire burn out. Home is sitting on my Mothers lap, watching Marvel movies and eating buttery popcorn. Home is waking up in the morning, sunlight pushing into my room, birds chirping and me; smiling ear to ear. Even though I wrote about my house, home isn't a place. It's the people who let you be who you are, and give you the option for you to school, and love you no matter what.