Essay about What Home Means to Me

Between 1910-1970 up to 100,000 aboriginal children were taken forcibly from their homes and families, by police or welfare officers. These children were known as the ‘stolen generation’. The novel Home, by Larissa Behrendt puts a human face on the stolen generation by illustrating the acts perpetrated against them. In the novel home, this is delivered through the story of Garibooli and her family.

Home: the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

Hello everyone! Welcome to our first meeting for the production of “A Solid Home”. I am very excited about what we can create together and I want us to be able to get started right away. For this production, our guiding concept is going to be “Death can be livelier than life.”

“Home is where the heart is”, it’s a phrase of home and a proverb of the word home. The phrase “Home is where the heart is” specific definition is this:

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.

Day 1: After such problems of reaching the community director at Azalea, I told my group to go the place instead of calling. Only two people kept saying that we should continue to call, which was really annoying because they did not even try to call, it was always me. But after convincing them, we went and we finally meet Mickey who is the director of events. She explained to us that their schedule was very tight because they have many things planned for the residents. After speaking to her, we decided on coming two times and present three topics each time so that it made a total of six visits.

The idea of “home” can be very different for different people. For some, home can mean where they were born or grew up. For others home may be the best place they have lived so far, or where they are currently living. The idea of where home is can also change from one place to another as people go through their lives. In the novels No-No Boy and The Namesake we see two different perspectives of how different immigrants from different cultures view the idea of home after making their journey to America. Depending on the character, there are many differences and similarities between the two experiences in the books. In this collection of novels, there is no set idea of what “home” really is, but that it depends on each person’s own beliefs and

I sat there less than 50 yards from the Borbous River in Leslie, Missouri on the amazing 150 acres of land. Sadly though I have been left, abandoned. My loving family gone, never to return. Once they ran and played outside next to me but now I am alone. The land is overgrown, left without care. The fence that once keep out animals and other things has fallen and left me exposed. The watery air that once caused me to radiate and glisten now leaves nothing but crude marks of oxidation on my aluminum roof. I remember the days that little feet would run through my halls, the sweet smell of breakfast being cooked, and the sharp smell of whiskey being poured. Now all of those things are gone. I no longer hear those feet or smell the breakfast or the whiskey. I witnessed the children grow and leave and the parents

I couldn’t believe that my summer vacation was coming to a close. I still hadn’t made any contact with Trevor. He didn’t leave a message the other night, so I had no idea where we stood relationship wise. I was still staying at Shay’s, but mom wanted me to go to her house and start dinner because she had to help Bessie with some yard work. Imani was home, but she wasn’t allowed to use the stove. My intentions were to go over, cook dinner, and get the hell out of there because I didn’t want to see Lester. I didn’t want the money that he was supposed to pay me because the entire situation made me sick to my stomach and I no longer wanted to hook up with him before I left to go back to Texas.

I live in a three bedroom single family colonial home in urban Detroit. I reside there with my husband and 11-year-old son. My home has three floors; the main floor that is composed of the living room, family room, and kitchen, upstairs floor is composed of bedrooms and the bathroom, and the basement that has a laundry room and sitting area. The outdoors portion of my home has been for the most part well maintained. However there is a 9 ½ inch long and 3 inch wide crack in the side walk leading up to the front porch. The top step of the porch has a 5 inch long 1 ½ inch chipped section. The front porch has adequate lighting but there is no lighting in the yard. Front porch also has

Out of the blue, towards the end of the call, Ron offered to place me on hold to ask a colleague for further assistance, inquiring whether he could add any further information. He came back and thanked me for holding, but he did not return to our previous conversation or attempt to answer any of my previous questions. Instead he asked me to pronounce my name "Dana" and took the time to mention how the program was national. Ironically he had been correctly using my name through the entire call already. Ron appeared to prioritize the collecting of my personal information and the scheduling of a follow-up call first, instead of addressing why I had been placed on hold to start with!

A lot of people are poor and need money to support themselves, but sometimes a person really needs money to support their families so they turn into a life of crime just to help their families and get them out of poverty. I never really got a reason as to why people would steal from other people till much later in life. How I understood why people would do that was when I was 8 years old and saw a man that told me the reason why he did what he did.

I woke up with a start. Sweat was pouring down my forehead, and I was panting hard. After I calmed slightly, I raised my head. It was rather dark, only a small torch to light the room. I stood from the small bed of straw strew across the ground. I walked over the the small torch, and pulled it from its small resting place. I searched the room a bit more. Finding nothing of importance to me, I decided to leave and explore the rest of the area. I walked through the door, and ended up in a long corridor. I decided to go right consider you could see the wall that brings the left path to its end.

What is home? If one looks in a dictionary the answer would come out to be, “The place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.” However, for anyone who has had an actual home, they would know that such a term goes much beyond its concrete description. It is an impassioned aspect filled with values and foundation of nurturing. A home is not just an abode built to live in; in fact, that is just a definition of a house. Home is a place where one not only feels comfortable, but a place they look forward to opportunely live in every day. A home is built not by bricks or wood, but with the bond of family. A home is a place that reminds a person of countless memories and values when he walks through a

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