Where I Am Myself - A Meaning Of Home Story

Home isn’t a house or a collection of things. Home is where puppy kisses and cat cuddles fix hard days. It's where tacos on Tuesday's and laughter on game night have become my favourite traditions. Where blaming our farts on the dogs becomes its own form of family humor. At home, there are inside jokes that no one else will ever understand, warm hugs that fix more than just a bad day, and “I love you”'s said and hugs given so often they are as familiar as the air we breathe. Home is wrapped up in Grandma’s quilts. It’s in Nannie’s Chris-Cross. It’s where I can be myself— unashamed and unconditionally loved. My traditions look different from other families’ — and that’s okay. What matters most is safety. Acceptance. A place where every person feels like they belong. My home is good because we have a park close by, a place to laugh, run, and play. My family lives nearby, and my friends are close too —people who make me feel safe, supported, and joyful. THAT is home. But so are comfy pajamas, cozy mornings, warm food, and nights filled with stories and giggles. Home isn’t stuff. Home isn’t perfection. Home is love. — Love, Liv