What Home Is to Me

A home used to mean a house with 4 walls, a roof, and where my dad always took work calls. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t seem to find any friends anywhere in this place I called my home. When I thought of a home, I thought of a house. Where in the middle of the night when it was as quiet as a mouse. But as I grow, I start to realize, my home is not that. My home does not have a size. My home is where no feelings are wrong, where I can love and where I can feel like I belong. My home is my family, who I feel safe with. Where I feel loved and warm, and nothing’s makeshift. Sometimes when I’m feeling down, I can go to my home. Where I feel happy and confident, and I have my own little crown. Some people don’t have a home to share, so I’m very lucky and grateful to have one. Thank you, Habitat, For Humanity for helping those people with no home, building some for them so they can also feel the way I and other lucky people do.