Ever wonder what it would be like to grow up in a gorgeous two story house, in a neighborhood with parks and jungle gyms? Well I did. I grew up with my two siblings and parents living in a trailer park. I would let my mind wonder off and think of what it would be like to live in a house with a room to myself, filled with Barbie dolls, plush kitty cats, fake makeup and dress up clothes. Every kid’s dream right?
If I had my own room though, what about everything else? The family game nights, the fun my sister and I had at night popping in the Moffat’s VHS concert video, and having family gatherings. I realized that it doesn’t matter what type of accessories and materials we had, or how big our house, in my case trailer, was. The love and joy put in the house is what makes it a home, my home.
The image I have of a home is a place where I can take off my shoes and kick back my feet. It’s a place where my family grows up and keeps track of how tall we get over the years with markings on the walls. Having divorced parents however, changed where my home would be. Going back and forth from my moms to my dads was a bit stressful, and hard to cope with. Always having to change schools and make new friends was difficult. My parents reassured my brother, sister and I that it would be fun, and change is always fun. No matter how many times I have moved, I have always told myself that, “Home is what I make of it and who I make it with.”
My home is my own sanctuary: A comfortable, cozy nook where I can be myself, and share my life with my family. At home, I can be my wacky self who imitates Steve Urkle’s “Got any cheese?” impression, and not have to worry about someone judging who I am. I have a close nit family, and spending the holidays together isn’t just a yearly thing. We spend every holiday together at each others homes. Every time we walked into the doors, I felt at home myself. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents welcomed everyone with open arms. Their home was our home. Pleasant, delicious aromas from turkeys apple cider to fire wood burning, pictures of everyone’s first birthdays hanging on walls, and laughter from Uncle Floyd’s stupid jokes are what make our house a home.
It has been almost tow years now since I last moved. Another year since I stepped into yet another High School. Now that I live in a gorgeous two story house, with a park and jungle gym in the neighborhood, I realized that the size and location of a home doesn’t matter. I had to make new friends, and start a new life and though this has been the most recent move, I feel that it has been the most successful move my family made. I made new friends, discovered many new places, and rebuilt the relationship between my family’s issues. We talk about everything now, and whatever is on our minds, we talk about it, instead of bottling our emotions inside.
Like Dorothy says,” There’s no place like home.” I believe home is where the heart is.
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