All of this is Home

I have many homes. Each one started as a blank canvas that my memories have painted over the years. Everyone has a different feeling, but they all hold the same meaning. The meaning of home. One with comfort and joy, roasting sausages in the fireplace. Another with a big family and food, never getting hungry. The third with secret passages and imaginary castles, game nights, and movies. All of this is home. My memory can still reach the hot summers I spent biking through the forest lined streets alongside the people I cherish most. Coming in for hot chocolate in the coldest of winters. All of this is home. Big feasts every night, and magical holiday mornings. Chasing each other floor to floor, while the feeling of love and happiness floats in the air. All of this is home. Friends and family surround me, the whisper of pages turning and the click-clack of knitting needles on silent nights, the anticipation thrumming in the air along with our squeals and giggles during family games. Past times engraved quite literally on the stairs and walls. Dents from my skates to scratches from falling. I’ve seen it all. All of this is home. People have many different perspectives on home - mine is this; a place to go when you’re scared. A place where you feel loved and accepted, not afraid to show your true colours and let them shine. All of this is home.