No Place Like Home

Harry’s departure from his old life is evident once he steps on to Platform Nine and Three Quarters to board the Hogwarts Express (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone). Leaving his previously known home is not difficult because of the ten years of neglect that occurred in the Dursley household. Harry has only been in two magical places and he already feels more comfortable than ever. Now that he has crossed over to the hidden world of magic, he is ready to embark on his adventure.

For once, she wandered toward him with no children in tow. Today, she wore no linen coif, and her elbow-length, blond hair hung down loose. Percival had not realized how thick and glossy it was. And instead of wearing her typical nanny uniform of a stiff beige tunic dress, she wore a pale blue dress, more fitted at the top, and cinched at the waist with dark leather girdle belt. The belt accentuated the curve of her hips, and he color of her dress brought out the light honey color in her eyes. She was even more beautiful than he recalled, and in that instant, her presence was the balm he needed to soothe his agitated soul. He realized that he’d had but one brief interaction with her earlier in the day, yet her presence was exactly what he needed.

It all seemed like a blur the process of booking in, having her body and belongings searched, to putting her things in a locker. It felt like it did not happen, and as soon as she grasped a sense of reality, she found herself stood in the visitor's room, surrounded by criminals and their loving family visitors. Even though she had not seen him for forty years, she could pick out her father like a shot. She knew

Remy Anderson’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as she climbed the stairs to her best friend’s apartment. The trek to the third floor was no easy feat considering that she was toting a duffel bag, a backpack, and a half-eaten pumpkin pie. Arriving at their apartment door, she rang the bell and waited in the dull glow of the gold chandelier.

Ten years pass. He can still recall the crème blush coloring of his lover’s cheeks and the tapered point of her nose. He can recall the ringing vibrato of her laugh and the way a shrill, yet violent sneeze would wrack her body. Fifty years. He knows she had auburn hair and olive skin, but what color were her eyes? Gray like an oncoming tempest or a deep ochre married with lighter hues. One hundred years. His grandchildren stamp their fingerprints on the glass of the frame with her photo in it. Their mother wrenches the portrait out of their pudgy hands with a sigh, lost in the memories of twirling around on the kitchen tile to the soundtrack of the woman’s hums. Two hundred years. Her image is engulfed in the flames of a roaring blaze and lost

He was trying to piece together a town plot all the while thinking how ludicrous that is when it hit him: he was in Mrs. Walker’s class too! He had written a letter with the rest of the class. What he couldn't remember was what it said. The more he tried to access his childhood, the more it eluded him. He remembered Mrs. Walker. He could recall how much trouble he was always in. He even unlocked the recollection of Amy Kessler: the first girl he had ever kissed. But the letter or what was written on it ran from his struggling mind. As he battled to remember, he glanced down at the lock, now twisting and flipping in his nervous hands. The violet glow was growing stronger. Why was everything different after Flemming read the letters? Why was his best friend not here? Why was Mike rich? Questions began swirling around faster and faster. Tom had to grab the stage to steady his weakening knees. He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm his mind and nerves. The questions still dug at the back of his mind like gnawing

“Who could that possibly be? No one cares to ever visit me,” Edward thought as he jumped up from his chair in which he was just previously reading a magazine. He smiled at the idea of having company for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He straightened up and shouted, “Just a minute!” over his shoulder towards the front door. He ran over to his mirror, fixed his hair, and buttoned his collar before heading towards the door. He arrived at the door and peered through the peephole at a nice-looking lady standing on his front porch. She wore a lovely lavender pantsuit with a matching hat, pearl earrings, and glasses that nearly took up her entire face. Edward trusted her already. So he unlatched the seventeen locks on the inside of the door and opened the door wide as he put on a welcoming smile. “May I help you?” Edward asked while still holding that award-winning

After, what seemed like ages for Mia, Julie was done. Turning the chair towards the mirror, Mia was finally able to see her new form and she couldn't believe that the beautiful creature in front of her was her.. Mia’s hair, now, were literally glowing, her golden streaks shimmered under the sunlight of the now setting sun outside, while her brown hair gave a warm earthy feeling. Julie smiled behind her,feeling satisfied with the work. After gawking at her new form, Mia hand went into her hair to check for those pests: there were none, none in her hair! Overwhelmed with joy, Mia hugged Julie and went to pay for her treatment as well as for the products used on her, as they were no longer usable. Waving bye to the Julie, Mia left the saloon; Looking at the almost sunset, Mia thought smiling’ I guess that some people are not bad afterall’, fading into the, now set sun awaiting the a bright morning

Numerous modern literary works rely on setting to ignite the plot and enhance the readability of a story. Oftentimes an author incorporates his own opinions and perspective into his literature to better portray the experiences of his characters. The interpretation and comprehension of a story is largely dependent on the inclusion of accounts from the author 's own life and experiences. In Sue Monk Kidd 's The Secret Life of Bees, David Guterson 's Snow Falling on Cedars, and Jhumpa Lahiri 's Interpreter of Maladies, diaspora makes it difficult for the characters to assimilate to the new customs and moral convictions of each new environment.

She was stunningly gorgeous with platinum blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and an enchanting English accent. He was frozen by her beauty, she looked about his age but, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The older boy noticed this and stepped in front of her.

He couldn’t see her too well with the sun setting behind her, but he admired her curvaceous legs and generous chest. A number of erotic thoughts filled Charles’ mind in a matter of seconds. He filed away the sun dappled profile of the unknown woman for later fantasizing. She seemed to sense him staring at her, and stood up straight; staring at his direction. Charles met her gaze for a few seconds and that was all it took. In that mere frame of time, the sun had decided to set – with a mind of its own. He felt as if there were forces down below that caused this. From what Charles could see; raven hair; and ruby lips. His favourite. Turning quickly back to the water in sheer embarrassment, Charles feigned the notion and looked out towards lake. He let out a long sigh – wishing he could gather up the courage to just ask her out for a cup of coffee; just to have a decent conversation with another human being. Charles was desperate for a woman’s scent. He longed for the touch of a woman; the warm embrace of their welcoming chest; the touching breath on his cheek. He desired everything a woman had to offer but had unfortunately experienced very little of it. He reprimanded himself for his timidity and grimaced at his reflection below him. Upon turning his heels, intent on drinking himself to sleep for the night, Charles was confronted by the small child that was with the woman. But where was she? He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and slightly craning his neck, Charlie laid eyes on her beckoning face – making out her features for the first time. Desperate to break the awkward silence, Charlie began to open his mouth. He was about to mutter his signature, squeaky ‘hey’, right before she pressed her finger to his mouth. She rested her finger on his face for what seemed like an eternity for Charles. Strawberries, he thought. She smells like strawberries. Acting purely on instinct, Charlie opened his

Fleurettte had been sitting on one of the many staircases Elswood had to offer. It was a casual day for her, with no excitement, nor nothing to peak her interest. And like many things Fleur hated, it was the feeling of dullness or living dull. If she didn’t have a single ounce of anticipation in her life, it wasn’t as if she was living her life to the fullest. That was until of course, someone had caught her eye. A familiar face appeared in the hallway and she swore she had seen in one of her classes before. His name started with a L or M, but she couldn’t remember. Or care to remember frankly. The boy had never peaked her interest, or maybe he would just for today.

It is no doubt about it that everyone has somewhere that they have adapted to long enough to call it there home! A place they can relax and really be their selves, for some it may have been their grandparents house, aunties house or wherever they felt comfortable. Well I of course felt comfortable in my own home, a four bedroom house on the west side of North Miami. My home in Miami was perfect I had my own room, I was very comfortable there, and it was a place to get away from the world.

There is no place like home is a well-known adage that the healthcare industry has recently embraced. According to the Joint Commission, the home is the best place for healthcare, and it has proven to benefit the patients in many ways, because the cost of care is lower, the patients are happier and the environment is friendlier (Dilwali, 2013). CMS defines home care as “prescribed services delivered in the patient’s home such as nursing care; physical, occupational and speech language therapy; and medical social services” (Dilwali, 2013, p. 269). Home care includes disease prevention, health promotion and illness related services (Stanhope & Lancaster, 2014). The goal of home care is to ensure that the client’s health improves while increasing the individual’s independence. This combination guarantees an optimal level of well-being (Dilwali, 2013). There are several care models encompassed under the umbrella of home care which assist in these goals. These include population-focused, transitional, home-based primary, home health and hospice. In order to fully understand home care, one must analyze each of these models and the financial, ethical and legal challenges that the community health nurse faces.

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.