What Home Means To Me

I can’t even start to explain the feeling I get when I am at home. It’s a special feeling, that not everyone will get to experience. And for that, I am lucky. I can’t even start to explain the comforts of my home. When sad times come around, the hugs from my mom and dad make me feel safe. Like a giant blanket of warmth, telling me everything will be alright. And for that, I am safe. I can’t even start to explain how loved I am at home. My mom and dad are always there for me. Sometimes homes have fights or disagreements, but home is where it all goes away, and everyone forgives. Because that is love. And for that, I am always loved. I can’t even start to explain what home means, because it is different for everyone. For some people, home is just a place to sleep when the sky fills with darkness. But for others, home is a place where when the sky is filled with stars, they go to bed pondering. Pondering about the devastation that not everyone has a home. They end up having a dream. Not a good dream, but a nightmare. A nightmare where they don’t have a home. They’re alone, cold, sad, and disappointed. They sky isn’t filled with of home stars anymore. Its only filled with inky black darkness. They feel like a broken promise. But once they wake up, the bad dream is shattered. They open their eyes to the sight of their room, a comforting, welcoming place in their house, and they realize that that is home. The smell of breakfast welcomes their nose to the table, and even if the eggs are burnt, it is home. As they get changed to take on the day, with their jean and t-shirt, they realize that even if it's just a pair of clothes, it is special to them. And that wonderful, special, remarkable feeling, is truly the feeling of home.