Home is...

Home is a place that can only be described by feelings. A place of few words. A home may be big. A home can be small. A home can be a building. A home can be several places. Not just one address. It doesn't matter how your home looks like. As long as it's your home. When you look at your home. You know it's your home. You'll know the house number. You’ll recognize the faint blue paint on the wall. The overgrown plants growing on the wall. The door. Is always welcoming new people. The tree that has been with you since I came. There are lots of feeling of home. That I cannot fit in this piece of writing. H.O.M.E The H stands for happiness and all the good times. The O stands for it's going to be okay. The M stands for magical for you don’t know how magical a home can truly be. Last of all the E stands for how your home eases you when times are hard. H.O.M.E. Think about the word. How a four letter word can be so small but hold such powerful emotions? When you look inside your home. You'll Look at a picture of your past. A smile is plastered on your face The mess you made as a two-year-old. But that's not all There are other hidden memories in your home. That you don't know about. Home. What does home remind you of? Home reminds me of joy. The laughter of my parents. The noise of the tv playing. Me and my sibling. The inseparable duo. Even though I hate him. And he hates me. It's hard hating each other. What's your sibling like? Think of home. What's it like? My home feels safe. A place where I don’t have to worry. My home smells like food. The smell of curry. Rushing through every room. The smell of burnt chicken. Never get old. My home looks like a mess. Every room tells a different story. My home sounds busy. My mother is always in a meeting with someone. My dad getting work calls. My brother yelling for attention. My home tastes like chicken kebabs. The smell of beef in the kitchen. We aren't very vegan. In my home. Every room. Tells a different story. Like the kitchen. A sacred place for my mother. Where my dad is always eating food before it's ready. The lounge. That's where my most of my family stays. Where my mom is doing work. My dad taking calls. Me doing my homework. And where my brother is watching tv. Our bedroom. Looks like a tornado came crashing in. The amount of clothes everywhere. Where nothing is organized. Just gets on everybody's nerves. Last of all. The most important room. The washroom. Where everybody spends six hours sitting on the toilet. The screaming beginnings for my dad to get out. Is this just too much? Well. This is what home is to me. What is home to you?