What Home Means to Me

Some say that home is inside you, something you can’t touch. Home. Four letters and one syllable, this word brings out a string of emotions and memories. Home is a place where I can just be me. When I think about home, an image of my special reading corner pops right up. Surrounded by mounds of colorful books, my reading corner has colorful cushions piled high and stuffies perched on any available surface. When I read, ideas and dreams are just an arm's length away to be caught and fulfilled. I can be floating in the beautiful night sky and zooming through the dense forest jungles, all in my warm, little nook, snuggled up in the calming aromas of my home. My room is a very essential part of my home. It contains all of my childhood toys and memories. My books, my desk, my bed, and my toys, these special objects have accompanied me throughout my life; through hardships and happiness, through winning and losing. They are the comfort that I find whenever I need them. My bed is perfect for relaxation, my desk is trustworthy for homework, and my toys are perfect to giggle and play with. Every night when I was little, my grandma’s soothing and eloquent voice would fill my room. The calming sound of her joke-filled bedtime stories lulled me to sleep every time she spun one up. During the day, my dad would whisk me around the house with me on his back, my sister would play many fun games with me, and my mom would teach me sewing, cooking, and baking. During all of these moments, I feel creative, playful, and loved. “Home is the starting point for love, hope, and dreams.” And so it is for me.