The typical thing comes to mind, when you think about home. Your family, the warm friendly fire of love, and delicious food. But my thoughts are different. Sure, it has all of the above, but it has more, it has a kitchen painted in laughter and outlined with smiles. There is a cupboard filled with memories. Some are locked away and others creep out and make room for more.

The windows all welcome you with their own special traits. Some will give the sweet rhythmic sound of water trickling down the fountain and the sight of nature leaping into action. Others will let you watch a storm come in and shake with thunder. My favorite window faces the street. It watches the swing stuck in a single movement and the cars with their endless rush to places with no time to spare. The tree mocks me as I gaze out and forget my worries and instead I fill myself with the laughter I long for as though everything has been resolved.

When I walk home from school and think of what might be waiting on the other side of the big red door, I smile. Sometimes the occasional tear will escape me with the thought at how fortunate I am. As I enter the door I am greeted by the big black monster of a dog that I personally have no alliance with, but I still pat him and share my good mood. Sometimes I am greeted by the smell of one of my mom’s big gourmet meals. As though Martha Stewart has come to visit and has decided to try a new recipe. After throwing my stuff in the closet, sometimes I will go outside to visit my dad in the shop or sit down with one of my favorite books.

Then, there’s pizza night, which definitely doesn’t escape my definition of home. We pull out the bread maker and whip up a good dough. Next we make our pizzas, transforming our kitchen into a pizzeria. Afterwards, we watch a movie and go to bed late. Sometimes we’ll even play a game and laugh a little more before drifting off into a whole new world, with a whole new dream to discover.

The outside of our home has as much of an importance to me as the inside does. We’ve buried memories and grown them until we can cut them and put them inside to admire. It’s where we’ve tried our first fresh tomato and grown our first strawberry. Where we’ve caught one of nature’s beauties and put it into a jar to examine and then release. We’ve built ponds filled with life and prosperity. Parties have been held in our yard and kickball games have turned up the grass. And the leaves fall off the trees and make a new challenge filled with work and energy. All made fun with teamwork and games.

I could write a book full of things that come to mind when I think of home, but as I sit here and write I have given you a taste of my own special recipe of home. The birthplace of memories and mother of love.