The Meaning of Home / Le sens d’un chez soi

My home. That smell of roasted chicken or sugar cookies waiting to be iced. The soft, newly reupholstered couches. Smooth, fuzzy blankets with Native American designs. Ça, c’est où j’habite. When I arrive to this happy, merry street, I see the kids playing badminton, or helping their family wash the car, or even wrestling their lionlike cat. Ça c’est la belle rue familière où je vis. When I come to our newly renovated dining room, I sit down and pick up my fork. I taste the fresh, crisp, green salad, the juicy, tender chicken fresh from the oven and the hot, spiced roasted little potatoes. Ce souper délicieux est un symbole de notre famille. I hear the bickering, arguing and drumming of my family. I also hear the buzzing of my brother plugging in his guitar amplifier. J'entend ma sœur grommelant en faisant ses devoirs. I feel our beautiful blankets. I feel the cold, smooth cutlery. I feel the love radiating in the air. I feel at home here. To me, all of these things represent home.