Home is waking up to sunshine peaking through the blinds at 4am on a summers day. Home is knowing where every creak in the stairs is when sneaking down to get secret food. Home is the sound of the of the hum of the fan in my parent’s room on a busy weekday morning. Home is the dogs barking at anybody who knocks at the door. Home is my dads deep voice vibrating under my floorboards as he laughs and talks with mama in the evenings. Home is dinner at six, seven, or eight. Home is summer days spent on the patio drinking ice lemon water and napping under the umbrella. Home is having to find dandelions for the tortoise or even having to find the tortoise himself. Home is winter days spent watching films in the lounge in a sea of blankets and drinking endless cups of tea. Home is the delightful array of smells cooking in the kitchen in the evenings and often at breakfast.
Home is where frustration boils and anger spits. Home is where I cry and hurt and worry. Home is where happiness and love is at its fullest. Home is where I laugh till I cry and love so much I could explode with glitter and sunshine. Where life and people pass by everyday, home stays put. Home is where I’ve grown and home is who is there for me.