A Simple Place Called Home

Homes means something different when you realize not everyone gets one. Home is the place where I have comfort, home is where I know I will always come first, a door to close, a floor that remembers my weight, a place that keeps me safe overnight. Home is where I lie awake under a roof feeling warm, and somewhere else, someone lies under the sky feeling cold. Home means having walls that will always protect you, and knowing others would give anything to have walls at all. Home could be people sleeping on benches, with their lives folded into bags. To me, home makes me feel thankful, when you look at it from many different angles. Sometimes I think home isn't a building at all. It's being held without having to ask, and that makes the world feel impossible, because so many people are walking around unheld. Homes the thing everyone deserves, the thing that too many of us don't get, the thing some of us are lucky enough to have, a simple place called home.