Home Is Not A House

A home is much different than a house. Home is a place you feel loved. A place where you can be loud as a lion rather than quiet as a mouse. Home is a warm hug on a cold winter day. During the night, when it's time for bed, home is “goodnight, sweetdreams, I love you.” Home is the beautiful smell of curries, naan and Punjabi cuisine. Home is the smell of the freshly baked cookies or cakes that my mom and I bake. Home is the taste of love and joy put into the food that we share. Home is the feeling of hugs and kisses. Home is the stuffies that feel like clouds. Home is the feeling of peace after a hard day. Home is a blank book, made for memories to be written inside. Home is a place so special that you can see the love that hangs inside. Home is not always a jolly place; it can be full of rage, anger and annoyance. Though in the end it turns into “I’m sorry, it's okay, I love you." In my house during summer, it's the feeling of tennis rackets hitting hard against the tennis balls pak,pak it goes as my dad and I get in a deep game. You see, home is much different than a house. For a house is just a structure, but home is hope, joy and pages, waiting to be written on.