The Meaning of Home

I was freezing outside waiting for my bus to come. “ What does home mean to you?” I remember my teacher saying, her voice echoing through my head. To me home isn't just a place, it's a feeling. It’s where I laugh and cry. It’s where I play and read to pass time. Where I curl up beside my parents when I’m scared or cold. Where books lay open like portals to cozy worlds I hide in to get away from mine. Where the familiar creak of my house squeaks hello. Home is the people, who care for you, love you. Parents, guardians, family, friends. That is what home means. Home is the memories, big, small, happy or sad. The small but meaningful moments, hanging up on our walls. Captured, so we can remember them forever. “HONK” the bus blared, screaming at me to get on. The doors opened and I quickly ran on. Hot air warms my frost bitten fingers. Home is where I feel pain and fear but also where I feel love and happiness. Home is where babies cry, where children play and where I grow up. I look out the window. Eyes tearing up as I see my family waving at me. I silently promise that I will be back. No one has the same meaning of home, but home is meaningful. Home is family. Home is love. I love my home. My home loves me.