Home is the familiar sights outside the window. Home is the welcoming smells.
Home is where a pillow is gently tucked under your head, even when the last memory you had was page 236 your novel. Home is where you fall asleep with your phone battery about to die, and wake up to see it charging at 99%.
Home is where your lunch is ready before you step out of the shower in the morning. Home is having fresh smelling clothes and warm hearts to greet you after a hard day.
Home is having somebody wait up for your call at 2am, just to slyly open the door and let you in. Home is sneaking into the kitchen for a private chat.
Home is having somebody secretly use your favourite lipstick. Home is sharing your favourite food.
Home is fighting over TV channels. Home is saving the last piece of chocolate for somebody else.
Home is getting late for work ‘cz of others who wouldn’t vacate the bathroom. Home is where you take hours to decide what to wear. Home is the messy cupboards. Home is knowing exactly where everything is.
Home is the bowl of chicken soup when you’re sick. Home is a rap on the back, for when you’re being a dick.
Home is where you’re nagged for your carelessness. Home is where your flaws are accepted.
Home is sitting in your favourite corner. Home is the crazy dance nights with songs from the 60’s.
Home is curling up in old pajamas and spilling coffee on the new bed-sheet. Home is tucking secrets under the bed.
Home is where we hoard our memories. Home is where the heart is.