What My Home Really Means to Me

Home is not just a place to live; it’s a place where I belong. A place where, as soon as I return from school, I get to relax and eat a snack. Home is a place where a friendly kitten lives. Sleeping peacefully on the couch. In the strangest positions, Almost like a human. Home is where my brother is, Staying up until 3 am playing video games, Waking up at 11 the same day. Home is where my mom works at her home daycare. Taking care of eleven energetic children, Some won’t stop crying, While the others are quietly sleeping at nap time. Home is where my dad is. Coming back home from work, To make delicious dinners every day. Home is where my family lives. As long as I’m with them. I’m one step closer to making a random place my home. Home is a special place, Of hope and dreams. Dreams you can share with your siblings, With loving parents who will support those dreams. No matter how unrealistic and outrageous those dreams could be. Home is the place where petty arguments with siblings take place. The arguments you hate and wish would go away, But you know you could never live without. Home is where your parents cook masterpieces every night. Waiting until you and your siblings are old enough. To learn the secrets of making the delicacies. Home is where the pictures on the walls are. Some in the basement, Some on the main floor. Telling the story of my brother and me From young to old. Home is not just the place where you live It’s the place that’s filled with years of laughter and joy. It’s the place that holds a special place in your heart. A place nowhere else can ever replace.