The Way Home

Home isn’t something that can be described, it’s something that can be felt. It’s the feeling of being lifted up. Walls and a roof create a building, a house. Home is a concept, a concept of love. A concept of life. The people are always there, to fill me with emotions. Our voices laughing. The warmth of arms, wrapped around me. Smiles from ear to ear, eyes sparkling with stories to tell. The one place where I can be free. I can be me. Laughing, crying, good times, some bad. I guess what home means to me is heart. Emotion. Life. Everything swirled into one. The place where I can just sigh and take a break. The place where it’s never too late. Home? The place you will always go back to, the place you know how to get to. The most familiar place, my favorite route. Emotionally, physically. I’ll always cherish the way home.