Home. So much more than a house, don’t you think? Home is a place close to heart—mental architecture, built of your dreams, desires, and everyday life. It’s milk and cookies, daily struggles, a newly made bed, and gatherings with your loved ones. It’s your first sensible memory and last goodbye.
Home is like an art form. A total state of mind, making Mondays feel like Fridays, strutting down freedom lane. It’s the hotbed of your next adventure. Like a front porch story filled with laughter and bubblegum tongue kisses. Your daily peak. A place for you to waste your youth, or relive it entirely.
Home will embrace you while you heal. It’s where you grow stronger, or spend your time like there was no end to it. And why wouldn’t you? There’s no wrong in finding comfort and enjoying it. It’s like satisfaction manifested in an ocean of resolved Rubik’s cubes.
Home is the worst kind of forgetful; home remembers everything, meaning it’s a place that never changes until you do. You could say that it’s what you make of it. It’s flexible, resilient and always right where you left it. And whether your eyes stay shut, the feeling remains. Your memories are safe, right here.
Home will let you giggle, let you sigh, let you dream at night. Home will cast shadows over your pet peeves, or wholeheartedly sweep them under a well-designed rug you won’t trip over. Savor it. Weave yourself into the fabric and add something of merit. Meanwhile, don’t swallow your words. Sing, dance, and do as much yoga as you’d like.