What is Home?

Home is constant. 

Home does not come to you in good times and leave you in bad. 

Home is memories and the people who make them. 

Home is neither the rented one-story house nor the massive mansion where Dad and his wife live. 

Home is safe—safe from physical, emotional, verbal harm—safe from fear of punishment—safe from a lack of joy. 

Home is the family together on the couch. 

Home is shared religion and beliefs. 

Home is a shared understanding of respect and consideration. 

Home is a snuggly bed that smells like me, like the detergent Mom uses, like happiness, like comfort. 

Home is this bed all to myself. 

Home is not a mattress on the hardwood floor of another person’s room. 

Home is decorations that can stay. 

Home is no packed boxes. 

Home does not judge, does not make you feel inferior. 

Home is where you set up the Christmas tree, year after year, in the same corner of tiled floor and adorn its branches with ornaments accumulated each year. 

Home is remodeled, restructured, reworked, and still remains the same. 

Home is sitting in the backyard under a burning sun, splashing in an inflatable pool and stretching out on a lawn chair. 

Home is family prayer, offered on bended knees in a circle on the living room carpet.  
Home is “Hi sweetie, how was your day?” 

Home is “Hey, wanna play a game?” 

Home is “Love you lots!”

Home is the smell of carne asada or pork in the crockpot.

Home is The Sound of Music.

Home lets you cry, holds you until you stop shaking.

Home sings “Oh what a beautiful morrrrrrningggg! Oh what a beautiful dayyy!” at seven a.m. on Saturday. 

Home is transferred to a hospital room when I am really sick.

Home is Sweet Pea or Black Raspberry Vanilla burning in the Scentsy.

Home is fresh laundry, the roar of the washing machine, the five singsong notes when the dryer finishes.

Home is not a building.

Home is so much more.

My home is sunshine on a cloudy day. 

<3 Mel