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Invited, Obnoxious, and Ecstatic

Staring at clocks is my specialty. Watching the arms leap from each line to another, I find it relaxing. If it’s a clock at school, I watch it attentively, until the bell rings and everybody runs to the boot room, where they put on shoes and escape school. I do the same myself, every day. Most people don’t look forward to going to school, and it’s always because they find it dull. For me, it’s not because I find it boring, but because I will always just want to go home; home is the place I am invited, obnoxious, ecstatic. I will never feel the need to act perfect at home because the people there know me, and they don’t expect anything but me. When I walk home, I feel peaceful. I know what awaits me there. I’m not heading to a house, but my home. Thinking about memories is something I naturally enjoy. My most cherished memory is when I first looked at the house. I was about four years old, possibly younger, and I enjoyed twirling around in the basement. To this day, I can still feel the rug tickling my toes. I remember looking at my room for the first time. It was so empty. Now, it’s full of my things. I trust it to hold them, to keep everything safe. Every single thing that happened in my house made it home. Water once squirted out of my nose, and my family was wheezing from laughing. It made home better with that memory. I open the front door. Home is where I can be me, and feel what I want. We didn’t buy a home, we bought a house and made it home.

Hazel

Grade 6

Leduc, Alberta

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