home is where the heart


Home is Where the Heart is





By definition a house is a building built for habitation where as a home is an abode built for one\'s family. But a home is something more special than that. A home is a place, where you feel comfortable. A house is just shelter. A home is a place that one love\'s to live in, but a house one just lives in. A home is built with a family, but a house has no intentions of family life. "A house belongs to you, but you belong to a home." (C. Marks)
The first memory that I have of a home is waking up one cold Saturday morning in my bunk beds. I jumped out of bed, and went down stairs to the living room, and enjoyed breakfast by the fireplace with my family. One thing that I love about home is that the feeling of safety and warmth. There has never been a time when I have not felt safe in my home. Home also has a certain smell that is almost in desirable. When I returned home for the first time after being at school, I felt great . The first thing that I did after returning home was hug my parents and my dogs, then I went over to the living room and sat down on my couch. I felt as if the couch was giving me a big hug. My grandpa told me recently of the time when he returned from World War II. He said when he returned home not only did he kiss my Grandmother, but he also kissed the floor of his humble home. He said the old rhyme he it for so humble their is no place like home, really meant something to him.
I guess that a dorm room would be described as a home because it is just a temporary shelter. But my dorm room is trying to be the exception to this rule. Within the walls of my dorm room there is full carpeted floor, with a stereo system and personal computer. But these things are not the things that make my dorm room different. Sitting in the corner of the room is a blue recliner. This chair is very special to me because it belong to my Grandfather. Every time I would go to his home I would always sit in his chair. The chair is so comfortable that it is unbelievable. It also has a certain smell to it which is very similar to home. There are also two wooden lofts which my roommate and I sleep in every night. These lofts were built by my dad and I the first weekend I went home. I got the measurements while he got the lumber. We spent one and a half days to build them. The following day we packed them up in the Bronco and took them back to school. After putting them up in my room it started to feel a little like home.
The poem The Death of the Hired Man, written by Robert Frost is written about a man and what he thought that his home was(Frost). I thought that the Hired Man always would leave this place called home at the most inconceivable times then returning with promises and ambitions of things that he would do to the home place. He did that same thing and as he grew older he became more tired from the work that he did. Then one day when he came in after work, he told the old lady Mary, of the things that he planned to do. Then later that night the hired man died in his sleep. The poem was written very nicely but I just do not think that it really represented what home really is.
The poem Home by Edgar L. Guest is a poem about what a home is and what makes a house a home. He says in the poem that it takes a heap of liven in a house to make it a home(Guest). I agree with this a hundred percent. He says the home is not something that you can buy, it is something that you make. A home