Home is the Memories Inside

When I think of home I feel the memories, happiness, and love inside. When I see my home, I think of my dad and I making music. I feel the connection with the click on his keyboard and adding to his beats. I see the movie nights with my family as we watch “Sonic the Hedgehog”. When I think of home, I feel loved. I used to be scared when the fireworks blew, but loved and safe when my parents were by my side. I felt cherished and reassured that I was safe and loved. I’m excited when I hear we’re going to Toronto to see my mom’s old home and my grandparents at a Blue Jays game. Home is connections with my family when we’re all enjoying the Latter ball tournament. Even if we win or lose, we all laugh, and say “good game” to the winner. When I taste the delicious surf and turf in my home I remember when my family was at my home for Christmas, and we all had surf and turf that my dad and aunt made. As I smell my great grandma’s pumpkin pie it makes me think of all the hard work she does to make such a good pie. When I hear the sounds in my home I think of when my friends and I say “run” while we play tag. The cries of happiness when my little cousin sees me after a long time. My home might be small, but it’s where my memories thrive and where my loved ones live. And I’m thankful for that. My wish is that Habitat for Humanity makes a home where others can live but also make joyous memories and most of all feel loved.