My home are my memories

A home is not somewhere where you live. It is a place where you feel like you belong. A place where you feel free. To me a home is a place where your memories grow. Like the memory of when we first moved in and my first steps. The memory of when my family went to our cottage for the first time. Some people think that a home is a place that they live or where they used to live, but to me a home is not just a house; it is a place in your thoughts, a place in your heart. A place where you would choose to be if you were anywhere in the world. Home is a place where you can be you. The more memories you create somewhere the more of a home that place is. If home was just a building it would not be a home at all. Nothing is a home unless you feel happy there. Memories don’t have to be specific; they can just be an idea. For example: I don’t remember what clothes I was wearing my first time biking, but I remember that it happened. My home is not created by wood and stone. It was created by love. A home is not just one Memory; it is all of them combined. My home is my memories; and my memories are my home.