A house is made to provide shelter from the cold. It’s supposed to contain you from the outside world. Its job is to be a place to live; its job is not to make you feel safe or welcomed. Its job isn’t to build childhood memories that you can hold onto forever. Lastly, its job isn’t to make you feel loved. Those are the workings of a home, and your house isn’t necessarily your home. A home is a place you feel emotionally attached to, and it holds your most precious memories.
Walking into my house you would see the set of wooden stairs leading up to another level of rooms along with a large entryway that opens up to the kitchen and dining room. There are pictures hanging all along the walls that depict a younger version of my brothers and me, and you would most likely encounter my all too excited dog, Lola. Upstairs you’d see my family’s bedrooms, which would probably be messy and disorganized and our bonus room that smells like teenage boy and old food since it’s where my younger brother spends most of his time. This is through a first glance into my house. If you took the time to examine my home, you’d feel the love seeping through the old pictures on the walls from the best of times. You’d smell the scent of a home cooked meal provided by my parents, and you’d hear the laughter echoing through the halls as my dog did something entertaining. Upstairs you’d see each child’s personality reflected through their room decor, and you’d observe the hard work my mom has obviously been putting into making the bonus room a place for us kids to hang out. My home is so much more than a house; it’s the place that I feel truly myself and it also holds all the people I love most.
A home is always being filled with new memories, and additions. If a best friend has begun to spend so much time with you that they begin to feel like a part of the family, they are now a vital piece in the puzzle making up your definition of home. Some people’s homes may be the gym they have sports practice at, or the school they attend, or perhaps it’s the church that they go to. It doesn’t matter the location because a home can only be defined by you!
For me, my home is my house and even as the years go by I know it’s a place that I’ll always feel attached to. People may pass through, furniture will be replaced, rooms might be rearranged, but a home is forever.