What Home Means to Me

When I think of home, I think of happiness, yet also sadness. Memories fill the air, both happy and filled with despair. But as sad as they may be, they are still beautiful and rare. A home is a place, day after day, where you can feel happy, warm and safe. A home is a place, no matter what race, where you can feel peaceful and joyous. A home is a place, no matter how bad the day, where you can always feel safe. When you have lost all hope and joy, a home is the place that you replenish. A house is a building with four brick walls, a roof, some windows, and a door. A house is built of brick and wood. A home is built of memories, love, and joy! A home can be whatever: a camper, a boat, a treehouse, a tent, even that abandoned shack in the middle of the woods! You don’t have to sleep in a home to make it one. As long as it makes you happy, that’s all you really need! A house becomes a home with happiness and memories. Without that, it’s still just a house. Anything can become a home if you want it to be one!