My home

As I lay in my bed slowly but surely trying to wake myself up. I lay there and think “ wow I have a good home.” I mean I can’t complain everything was going good. I mean I have my family. They are always there for me no matter what. Because at the end of the day we are still family even if we are on the other side of the world. That is proof that family is together even if separated you can’t tell me that’s wrong. So I'm so grateful that my family is with me. Sure there’s hard times but that doesn't mean we aren’t family. But millions upon millions of people aren’t with their home or family. But that doesn't matter to them. Because they know that they might not be living in “perfect conditions'' but to them that doesn't matter. Because home is where they make it. Where the memories are spent. Where the good or bad happens They know their home. But why, why has society made the word home to the point where you need a big house or fancy things. But they know you don’t need any of that stuff. You don’t even need a house to be right at home. You see now, Home isn't about a big house. It’s the feeling you get when you're there, that weird feeling of almost happiness. Why is this the case? You might have to figure that one out yourself.