What Home means to Me.

After trudging home through the cold powdery snow from school, it is always a relief to swing open the front door to the familiar feeling of home. Home is something that interacts with all 5 senses. Home feels like curling up our red chair with my family downstairs with the fire crackling, watching our favourite films. Like an embrace you give to a loved one on the night before Christmas. Or the rush of warm air that greets you after coming home from a day at school. Home feels like playing Kirby with my little brother, and light heartedly bickering about who gets the Ultra Sword. Home smells like my dad cooking food in the kitchen, or a ready and toasted bagel fresh out of the toaster. Home looks like my bedroom, white walls coloured by posters of all different sizes and colours, or my bed with its messy duvets piled on top of it with my favourite stuffie, Big Chris, on the top. Home sounds like my parents playing ye olde rock music from the 1980’s downstairs. Home tastes like my favourite pasta my dad makes, or like the carbonara we often have for lunch. I have so many special memories of home, and it's often easy to take it for granted. But I always try to remember that not everyone has this luck in life, and often don’t have a place to call home. I hope that I can find a way to help people without a home, and give someone a similar place to feel loved and accepted as I do.