A place called home

Since I moved to Toronto, I’ve been getting a lot of questions like “where are you from?” or “where is home?”. I guess the question is only natural since Toronto is a big city where people from all over the world gather. Whenever I get such questions, I tell them that it’s hard to say since I’ve stayed in multiple places and had countless places that felt like they were home and not. To me home has always changed, home was always changing based on the circumstances, or the chance to find a better place. As much as I would have wanted to feel a ‘rootedness’ in one place by staying put, I realized later on that just because I stay there for a long time does not necessarily mean home. Country to country, province to province, city to city, explaining

Home is the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household of or relating to the place where one lives. Home can and can’t be a physical environment. It can, because you have those connected thoughts, memories, feelings, and so much more to you house. Home also can be the environment, like the people, and animals all around you. Home also maybe could not be a physical environment because, You might feel like living there since it looks nice but does not have a good surrounding environment. For Esperanza, she is not proud of the House on Mango Street that she lived in when she was young. she feels like that it’s a dump and the places around it makes her feel bad on the inside.“There? The way she said it

Home—the place that gives off a sense of warmth, comfort, and belonging. Home is where loved ones are and memories transpire, however Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines it as “one’s place of residence.” Is this what the meaning of home has become today? Does home really allow one’s true self to shine through? In the past these presumptions held true to most of the population, but today people consider vacation homes, condos, and apartments a home when in reality they are very transient. In the 1800’s homes were built by the men of the house for the family to live in forever. Some homes do still meet this historical criteria, but today the majority differ greatly.

If there were one thing that shapes my identity the most, it would be my home. For most of my twenty year existence, I lived a fairly comfortable life in the sleepy town of West Salem, Wisconsin. It was the type of town where

On an online news article, “Home’s where I belong” written by Kelly Makiha, she states “there is no place like home” (Rotorua Daily Post). She says this because she goes back to where she grew up and feels like she is back home. She talked about how she hated living there as a kid, but now she can appreciate where she grew up because she’s been far away from it for a long time. I can relate to this because when I lived back in Modesto, I hated it and thought it was so boring. Now when I go back to visit it, I think to myself how could I have hated this place, but miss it so much?

When I travel I like to have a place that I can call home. It has to have the comfort, relaxation, and all the characteristics of my real home.

Many may consider home to be where they enjoy being rather than a house they

Since I was born and raised in Texas, there is no other place that feels like home like Texas does. It is a sense of familiarity and a sense of belonging whenever I come home from college. My home is Texas, therefore I would not feel at home anywhere else. I know my neighbors, friends, relatives, and everyone else that I have come to know as I have grown up in these past years. The feeling of being at home is what makes Texas a place that holds fond memories of not only my childhood but my entire life. Even though, I have relatives in Oklahoma and other parts of the United States, Texas is where I call home and feel at home.

The word ‘home’ is something that is often misunderstood. Home makes up your identity and not many people know that. Therefore you ask me, ‘what is home?’ Home is not just in your house. Home is a place that surrounds you. It’s you environment and cause for emotions. Your home is where you are with the people that surround you (peers, family, and strangers), as well as cars, houses, stores, and/or toys.

Location I was in Holmen for 2 years and liked were I live, but I love were I live now even more then ever. My house now I live in a small 900 sq foot shack on the Mississippi .and it is paradise I love how I can go hunting in the backyard whenever I feel like it and the simplicity of it .

Homes help provide consistency and a sense of ownership. “That was the crux of it; not size or location, but pride of ownership. Painted blue.” The size of the home isn’t essential. The simple ability to make a decision in something that is solely yours is fulfilling. It gives one a sense of accomplishment and responsibility knowing they have contributed to something real. “And yet it is precisely those dumb things that make it what it is-a place of certainty, stability predictability, privacy… That is everything.” The home will be there, night after

One knows that a place is their home when they are comfortable enough to present a true description of themselves, because they know that they will receive definitive acceptance. It is a sanctuary for them where they can do anything they please and not be judged afterwards. It is where one can share the absurdity of their day without any remorse or repercussions. The reason why people say that a person only has one true home is because one will

My house contains many memories of my childhood is where I grew up, I know every part of it and its secrets locations. When I was a child I used to hide in the attic, nobody would found me because no one knew where it was. Every time I enter my house I get a feeling of welcoming and comfort, leaving the house would make me sad. I celebrated many things like birthdays, baptisms and graduations, it means everything to me. It’s a huge piece that gives me safety and protects me from the rain, sun and winter. My house also has protected me from the outside world and violence. I don’t think I would ever want to move out, the walls have many scars from crayons and holes. The floor needs remodeling but

What does one call a place where they feel safe? A place where one is surrounded by loved ones? A place where one can forget the worries of the world for even a brief moment. A place where no matter what happens, they will always have a place to return to. They have the deepest of connections with those that live there; connections that they know will never be severed no matter what happens. That is home. Home can be defined as where a person lives or has a permanent residence, but it is more than that when pondering on the emotional connection it has with the heart. A common phrase that is constantly used is “there is no place like home”. It is not because a person misses their previous residence, but due to the many qualities it possesses that could possibly never be found anywhere else. Home is not simply a place where one lives, but a place where love, contentment, and tranquility are abound.

When one thinks about their “home”, they get a comfortable feeling, happiness, tranquility, etc. Now, the feeling that I get when I’m at home is stress, an unknown place, sadness in which causes me to want to escape and live in a fantasy world in my mind. My house isn’t a home to be in or live in at all due to the sour relationship my stepfather has towards me, the confinement and misery, and finally the treatment I receive at home. First, my stepfather and I have a sour relationship due to his fault because he treats me like trash and always talk bad things about me behind my back to my mother or siblings. However, when my mother is home he does not say a word or treat me like dirt but recently my mother has noticed that all he does is talk about me and how I’m no good and he tries to persuade my siblings to hate me. But let’s get one thing straight, even if my siblings resent me which they don’t but if they did, they would know the whole truth about their father and who he really is, for he is the devil. I’m not as a simile, I’m saying it because it is the truth. My stepfather might look like an angel and a person who would seem like they could not hurt a fly but, if he has the chance he will do it behind your back. He made me feel like I lived in hell, in a confinement and misery for he didn’t allow me to text, have friends or even hang out with them. Lastly, he said I couldn’t have a boyfriend and the time he figured I was talking to a guy he went all crazy and