What Home Means to Me

My home is an apartment which is black and white. There is a little park right outside, where we go when the fire alarm starts and we see fire trucks flashing lights and their wailing sirens. The sun shines bright down on our home. Through the large windows, I can see Lake Ontario in front of me. When I walk out to the lobby from the lift, I can hear the lift closing behind me. When I'm at home it sounds like footsteps running from room to room and my sister playing with me and trying to catch me as we run around our apartment. My home smells like a smooth scent of vanilla. When my mother is cooking, the fresh smell of dal goes from room to room giving excitement. Home tastes like bread and eggs in the morning and rice and dal at night. My home is filled with love and laughter. Cozy rooms to sleep in and soft couch to sit on, pillows and soft blankets, Love and warmth from my family covers my home with joy. I love my house. It shelters me and my family, and gives us a place to call home. So I am very grateful.