What Home Means to Me

A home is where I can feel like I belong. Where I can feel safe and warm, Comfortable and cozy. It’s where I can snuggle up in bed, Or drink a warm cup of hot chocolate. Home to me is my brother chasing me around, And watching my sister and brother tussle together. A home is a warm fireplace and its flickering flames, Stacks of books surrounding me as I read through them all. It’s where I stand in a busy kitchen, Wanting to help. It’s a suitcase, neatly packed, As we get ready for a vacation. A home is a delicious meal set onto the table. My mother’s homemade cookies and muffins. It’s the taste of a savoury meal, A sweet dessert. It’s where I can warm up with a bowl of soup, Or cool down with an ice cream. A home to me is the scent of book pages, The aroma of freshly baked cookies and muffins. It’s the fragrance of perfume in my parent’s walk-in closet. A home also smells like a freshly cooked dinner when I come home. Or the scent of the freshly taken out laundry. It’s the fragrance of the flowers in the summertime. A home is the footsteps coming to greet me, The sound of sizzling on a frying pan. It’s the laugh of my younger brother and sister, The flip of book pages in my bedroom, The sound of the sayings of a prayer. It’s also the blabbering of the television. A home is a safe place to make mistakes, Where you can have fun and feel safe and warm. It’s where you won’t be judged. It’s not just those four walls and a door, But a place of memories and firsts. It’s a place to learn, grow and change, A home is where you can celebrate your roots and culture, A place that’s bursting with love and laughter. A home is a big part of you.