My Home

My home is a place of protection, tenderness, and care. It’s more than just a house, it’s family, friends, and the place you know you’ll always end up in. In the morning at my home, I wake up in bed, sometimes thinking I’m safe. My family is here. I’m at home. I walk downstairs, my waiting sister greets me with a hello. I have food to eat, waiting to be taken out of the basement to be devoured. We eat together, as happy as Olaf in summer. I may have school, swimming, or church, however, I always return to my home to open the door to see lunch, staring over at our drooling mouths. In the afternoon, we sit down for lunch, laughing when we each make a joke. Sometimes we play a game together,(our dad ALWAYS wins in hearts). We are free at home. Me and my sister walk upstairs, talking, playing, and saying the “Are you still there?” joke (See Terminal Montage Paradox Pokemon.) . We're happy to be home. Then we have snack, and I am glad that we have food at home. Then we play for hours, and hours, until it is time for supper. In the evening at my home, we start with supper, the biggest meal of the day. Sometimes for special occasions we go to our cousin’s house for a Christmas dinner, or at Grammys condo for Thanksgiving, but we are still at home. Our family's food is always delicious,(mostly) and we chew and crunch with glee. We sometimes help with sweeping the floor and drying and putting away dishes. After that we brush our teeth and get into our PJs. Me and my sister, Heidi, play some more and then our Mom comes into my room. When it is time to sleep, at Grammy's we watch a movie and eat some snacks and go to bed at 9:00. At our cousin's place, we talk and chat and go to bed at 8:30 (around). At our house, we go to bed at 8:15, feeling warm and safe. My home is protective. It’s the warm, fuzzy blanket in the snowstorm, the light in the dark, the water in the fire. But it is actually my home.