Home

My home is a welcoming place where I can collapse on the couch whenever I want to. It’s a place where I can be as crazy, calm, or silly as I want to be. It’s a place where I can be me. My home looks like calm colors, a comfortable couch, too many plushy pillows, and scattered books. My home is a place of organized chaos. Home looks like the words on a page, painting pictures of new places full of adventure. It looks like the color, peace, and cozy comfort of my room. My home looks like a smile. My home feels like swaddling myself with warm blankets, curling up in the snuggly corner of the couch, watching old Disney movies with my family. Home feels like playing in our backyard quincy, and coming inside to a toasty cup of hot chocolate, topped with a couple of marshmallows. My home sounds like laughter, and the sound of a ping pong ball going “ping” back and forth across our smooth table . Home sounds like listening to my choir sing, and hearing my voice blend with theirs, creating a beautiful sound. Home is the quiet rustle of the leaves in the fall. My home smells like the wafting smell of my moms delicious homemade lasagna. It smells like her sugar cookies, while me and my siblings jump around in our PJ’s waiting to decorate the cookies for the holidays. It smells like that faint, natural scent that comes from the Shooting Star flowers in the springtime at my grandparents house. My home tastes like the crunchy, buttery taste of popcorn on our families movie night. It tastes like the icy, frigid taste of secretly eating the fresh snow.. It tastes like ice cream coated with strawberry sauce, and eating it too fast and getting a brain freeze. My home is a place where I am loved, wanted, taken care of, and where I can always be myself. I love my home.