My Home

Home isn’t always a house. Not a structure, just a home. In my home, I have love. My dad lifts me up in the air and hugs me tight even though I'm no longer the five-year old girl I used to be. My mom kisses me goodnight as I snuggle into my warm blankets. My brother laughs with me for hours even though at school I usually don’t see that fun side of him. I feel very loved. In my home, I have support. My dad sticks up for me in tight situations and protects me no matter what. My mom listens to my problems even if it doesn’t make sense. My brother has a soft spot for me when I'm down. I feel supported. In my home, I have happiness. My dad sings along with me in the car before he turns on his serious face for work. My mom says her goodbyes when I leave for school even though we both know we’d prefer to spend the whole day together. My brother babbles with me on our way home from school telling me about his day. I feel joyful. I know that not everyone has a home or family like mine. I feel sad. I believe everyone deserves a home and family, no matter who they are.