My home means…

I used to think my home was four walls, but then my cat died, I miss her so much. I miss her big blue eyes gazing up at me, always full of questions. I miss her sleeping at the foot of my bed keeping my feet warm. Now I know what home means, home is a big cozy hug that wraps around me. Home is a blanket. My cat used to sit on the piano bench and listen to me play. Her name is Kippsy Pale Grant but we called her Kippy. She was a ragdoll, and so beautiful, she was mostly creamy white but also black, gray with a little orange on her forehead. Now that she's dead I think I see her everywhere, laying on the couch, scratching our big glass door to come in, or curled up on my parents bed, her big sleepy eyes blinking at me. She loved scratching the couch and destroyed two couches, but she died just after we got a new couch. She didn't get to scratch it. Now that she's dead, laughing feels so wrong. I still do everyday stuff, like playing games, dancing, and I act the same. I know I will never feel exactly the same. I miss my cat so much it hurts. At home I smell flowers, I hear birds singing, I taste delicious food that my mom made (she is the best cook ever) I feel loved, I touch soft blankets, I see my family smiling. My best friend Ali’s dog Somi died, and now she draws Somi floating above them. My cat died in my little sisters room, we found her forever sleeping in a ray of sun, home is that ray of sun. Thank you Habitat for Humanity for finding people their own rays of sun.