Home

Home to me is not a place or a thing. Home to me is my mom's hugs, my dad's jokes, my grandma's cooking, and grandpa’s stories. Home to me has always been my mom's precious hugs. When my mom hugs me, I feel shielded from anything that can harm me. Mom's hugs aren't just hugs, they are joy and love. No matter where I am my mom's hugs will always feel like home. A home is a place to laugh and that is why when I think of home, I think of my dad's jokes. My dad's jokes are what bring me up when I feel down. Home is not a place but the people who live there with me. When I am at home I feel free to laugh and not be judged. That is only part of what family is to me. Sunday supper with my grandma and grandpa will always be home to me. Grandma's delicious Sunday supper will always remind me of home. That is something that I will never forget. The wild stories that my grandpa tells at supper will always remind me of home because of who is telling them. I will always feel at home when I am with my family. Home to me is my family. That is why my mom's hugs, dad's jokes, grandma's cooking, and grandpa's stories will always remind me of home.