The Meaning of Home

Home means sunlight pouring through high windows, gold sunlight on the wooden floor. It means the stillness of morning, soft as a sigh, and the aroma of rising bread, so warm and alive. Home is where the sound of laughter echoes off the walls, echoes of voices that wrap around your chest like a blanket that gets smaller when folded. It is the creak of familiar floorboards, the hum of machines, the quiet rhythm of life. Home is the whisper of secrets at midnight, the soft nudge of someone who knows your heart. It is the small corners where nobody is judging, "where your shadow reaches just the way it likes." It smells of old sweaters, of rain-soaked streets, memories that linger in the pads of your fingertips. Home means having chairs that frame your body Ideally, Beds to cradle your dreams, kitchens that are alive with warmth. It is the sigh of walls which have heard your sorrows, the applause of rooms that celebrate your joys. It is chaos and comfort, noise and silence bound together, a heartbeat steady beneath the tumult of life. Home is patience, freedom, roots deep in the earth, the gentle call that says, 'You are not lost and in reality you are at home.”