What Home Feels Like to Me

Home is like your bed on school mornings, warm, cozy, snug, and a safe place to be. When I get home from a long school day, my mom gives me a tight hug. The smell of fresh laundry detergent delights my nose, and the seasoned chicken baking in the oven welcomes has my mouth watering. I hear boots clattering on the floor and coats swiping against the hooks of the black back room. After hockey, the house slowly turns still. The hot steaming shower is waiting for me and I hear the T.V. spitting words at my brother and sister. The smell of my hockey sweat haunts them. My dad coming home from work trips is my favorite part of the month. I hear the back door creak with a smash and the sound of his lunch kit hitting the marble counter. I see he is wearing his bright orange overalls and his clunky brown boots; they always slowly echo though my home. My room has three blue walls with one white to keep it from being too dim. The perfect offset pictures on my backwall give it a welcoming look. With white vanity and a chair to pair it with. My favorite part of my room is obviously my bed, with a nice sinky mattress and its perfect white sheets. My mom sweeps and cleans all day but finally she gets a nice long rest. Sitting on the couch with me. I feel her tired warmth, I feel the black leather couch brush against my skin. The T.V. of course is once again spitting words, but this time at me and my mom. Even though beds get unorganized at the end of the day, they are always warm, cozy, sung, and a safe place to be.