I have lived in many different houses, but my home is the place where I have memories that I value. Home is family and friends.


I am so familiar with my house that I can find my way around it even in the complete dark. I know that there is a small nail that sticks up near the top of the staircase and that my desk chair squeaks when I lean back. Home is where I smell dinner cooking at 6:00pm while my dog naps on the kitchen chair. When I arrive home, I immediately feel secure because everything is in order and comfortable.


In many ways home is defined by my family. I know what I can and cannot say around my mom. I know that if I go into my sister’s room unannounced, she will throw a fit. My brother is always with his friends on the back porch. My dad likes us to watch movies with him in the basement. I like to hang out with my family at home and I can usually predict what they will say and do.


It is the same way with my best friend, Aidan. We once spent part of an afternoon in fifth grade guessing (correctly) what numbers the other was thinking of. We tell each other everything. Aidan is undeniably an element of my home.


Home is more than a house. Home is all the experiences that I will forever remember and it shapes who I am.