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Any house can be a home. To us, a house is a home that includes the pieces of community, family, memories, culture, and laughter. A home is a place where people help each other to overcome anxieties, find comfort through heartaches, and cheer success. A place where everyone can feel safe, happy, relaxed and comfortable.
It is where the soul is. My house can be described like most homes. A physical structure with a roof, front door and windows, parents, siblings and a furry pet. However, what makes my house a home is walking through the front door on a friday evening after praying zuhr prayer in the masjid and coming back to the aroma of freshly cooked delicious biryani in the kitchen because my mom knows it’s my favorite meal. The thing I love about home is that it’s your little place where you can go in there and forget reality even just for a little while. My home isn’t a structure that shelters me and that I live in, my home is always with me no matter what. The excitement I feel when returning back to my home after a hectic semester is undescribable because it’s where I get relaxed mentally and psychically. When I walk around and just look, I can feel the memories resonating from the walls. Sweet memories. The place where we all know the best hiding spots when we used to play hide and seek back in the childhood days. Home is the influence that transforms children into capable young adults. A place that protected and molded me into a person capable of stepping into the world. Every inch of the house contains feelings and emotions from some point in life. Walking in reminds me of all those times i’ve returned from football training. The living room reminds me of all my friends and family. Stored within the walls are memories of birthdays, deaths, good times and bad times. All push me to work harder as an individual to be the best I can be. After leaving home for long periods of time, I noticed that I always missed two things, coming home and talking to my sister and finding out what happened during the day, saying good night to my parents and then crawling into my bed.
A house becomes a home when the smell is familiar, there are pictures of memories along the walls, and when the people you love fill it. I’ve moved from house to house several times, and I’ve felt “home” in every single one. I also feel “home” at my grandparent’s houses, and even at some close friend’s houses. For me, a home is a feeling of comfort and familiarity that is brought up when you are surrounded by those you love and care about.
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