My Home

Everyday I wake up in my room with happiness. I put on my warm cozy clothes. These clothes collect all my memories in the felt, absorbing them everyday. I go downstairs and see my Dad. He's making his classic eggs. Eggs that he’s been making since I was an infant, with love. Then he smiles. That warm smile I see every time I head downstairs. My mom is cleaning up our house bright and early. Just as she has when we first got this house, 12 years ago when I was born. Her classic saying is clean house, clean family. That saying always makes me laugh. My brother sneaks up beside me and gives me a bear hug. His hugs make me feel protected. Although he can't express himself in words, he always finds different ways to make me feel welcomed. After breakfast I leave the house to go to school. As I arrive I’m greeted by my friends. My friends. Some have been by me since kindergarten, some I just made this year. But one thing is the same. They all care for me, as I care for them. We all walk into class. “Bonjour mes amis!” We hear our French teacher. French has always been with me since grade one. I speak it to my friends and family, even if they can’t understand it. French has brought me closer to them. Teaching it, and learning it from my teacher. We all go outside for break, talking to each other with glee. At that moment I realized something. Your home isn’t something that's decided at birth. Home is a group of people that love one another. Memories are formed and once they are, they will never be forgotten. My friends, my immediate family, my extended family, my teachers, my community in Breslau. This is my home.