What Home Means To Us

I would say my life is decent, and that is more than some people can say. My family can afford a nice house, good food and other necessities in the busy city of Vancouver, which is the most expensive city in North America. But sometimes, when I lie awake in my bed at night, I wonder what it would feel like to be less privileged. My idea of home could be identified in the five senses. I see tall, brown walls, the latest electronics littered everywhere, and familiar faces enlightened with laughter and joy. I see my small tabby swatting at my ankles for treats and viciously murdering any spiders that dare enter our home, content lingering in the air. But what if others see grubby, dirty alleyways and busy streets? See themselves alone, afraid and hungry? I smell my mother’s signature chocolate chip cookies in the oven, hot and fresh, my father with his sushi takeout he ordered for the Whitecaps game, and my sister’s pungent makeup wafting from her bedroom. But what if others smell the reek of dumpsters, the stink and odour of other people on the street, their own, sickly scent? I hear the exaggerated gasps of my mother as we watch some awful Netflix movie, both my sisters begging my parents to go to the mall for the second time in a row(my mother strongly disapproves of such behaviour) and the clatter of kitchen appliances as my father struggles to find the soy sauce. But what if others hear the yells and bangs of others on the street and their own whimpers of hunger? I feel silky blankets, cozy stuffed animals and soft, plush wool. Exasperation as my father recites terrible jokes and amusement as my mother accidentally accepts my screentime requests for all day. But sometimes, late at night, I imagine how someone with less privilege, less of an easy life would feel. What if they feel cold, damp sidewalks, aching, dizzying hunger, and miserable loneliness? Unbearable pain? I taste delicious sweets, scrumptious caramel and homemade pasta. Quality meals and happiness in one. It’s really lovely. But can you imagine what others taste, and the apathy we have for them? Revolting trash they found scrounging in the garbage, mysterious, acidic drinks they only consumed because they were parched? Maybe we should appreciate how lucky we are, and give thanks to Habitat for Humanity for trying to make this seemingly hopeless world a better place. By building houses, they create homes for those in need.