My Home is Not a House

My home is not a house. My home is a place with love, joy and peace too. My home is not just an area, but a place to call my own. A place with family and where you invite your friends. A house is something different though. A house is just a structure, a place with no meaning or even someone else's, but a house could never compare to my home. My home even has five senses. It looks like a place with pillows and blankets and fresh food on the table, but most of all my house looks full of laughter and joy and family. My home has phones playing youtube and music playing in the kitchen, but most important are the voices talking in the background. My home smells of fresh food cooking in the oven and new flowers in vases, but most of all my home smells of the perfume and soap my family smells like. My home tastes like the toothpaste I use to brush my teeth and the drinks I drink when I'm thirsty, but more important my home tastes of the family dinners we eat. In my home I can touch anything like blankets, pillows and doors, but I can also hug and high five family members. My home is not a house. My home is a place with a special meaning and a special feeling. A house could have furniture and food, but a house doesn't have that meaning and does not have your family and love. A home holds memories and your childhood, but a house could hold a friend's childhood and memories. A house could never compare to my home. My home is not a house.