This is my home. To me, my home is a sanctuary. A home is someplace you can be, where nothing else matters. A home is someplace you can return to, and the love of your family and pets outweigh and wash away the frustrations that accompany you through the day. My home is my birthplace, where I took my first breath. Where I made my first sounds. Where my best friend watched over me for thirteen years till his last breath. My home holds fifteen years of memories. Fifteen birthdays. To me, it’s not just the house that makes it a home, it’s the memories and life that fill its walls with the colors that bring us to life and teach us to love. It holds the adventures and explorations of a curious girl who can run free. My home is where I feel safe. Where no evils of the world are ever allowed to find me. Home lives in the memories of my grandma. The traditions we carry on from generations ago. Home is where I learned to cook the foods my Mother cooked through her childhood. The celebrations and family gatherings. My home is my safe place in hard times and sadness.
My house is the structure, the foundation for my life. Where I took my first steps. My house supports the foundations my Father built when he was 19-years-old. The foundations that hold my family and everything I love today. To me, a house is what holds the memories that make it a home. The memories that allow me to call my house my home.
