A Place Like Home

A home isn't just walls with windows and a roof; it's where your heart feels safe. Home is somewhere you are expected not for what you produce, not for what you prove, but simply just because you are yourself. Home is where you can take a break from reality, where the fight or flight mode deactivates, and where your adventurous fun begins. You come home to the sound of your mom frying eggs and your dad watching football, like me, some people don't know what that feels like. Home remembers you and doesn't judge you. It holds the traces of your former selves, the person you were, the person you are today, the part of you who imagined freely, the toddler who stayed up all night with her siblings building forts, laughing over nothing until it felt like everything or laughing so hard you get told to be quiet because you’re not even supposed to be awake, it's the sound of laughter echoing down the hallways and staying up past bedtime. It's knowing you belong there, even when nothing in the world feels right and the person you are still becoming. The walls may change, the address may shift, but home carries continuity and reassurance. It is the place where time folds in on itself, where laughter lingers in corners, and grief is allowed to stay without questioning. Even when home feels quiet and distant, the memory of warmth teaches you what safety should feel like but it still feels like a peaceful, safe space. Home does not rush you through your pain, but it makes you feel safe and secure. That's the meaning of home: not a place, but a feeling that stays, no matter where you go.