Home

In life there are many things that we believe we have because it seems easy to say and have it, but also as long as someone is happy with what they have and how they live, why should they be told that they are wrong. While it is true that humans are extremely complicated, it must be clear that they are not the same in thought, behavior, or what they want.

A home can mean the same thing to many and everyone can say that they have a home, who can have the absolute truth to say that they are not right in their belief. If a person says that his house where he lives well, comfortable and quiet is his home, that is fine for him because he is happy and he thinks so.

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Is a house a home?

Good question, in which the answer will be only my personal opinion; what I feel it means to me. I can say that only with the passing of the years have I understood this, if now as an adult I understood that since I was little I always had a home and I called it my house, because there I was happy with my parents and siblings, we lived together laughing and fighting, nonsense, but you fight at last. But I lived many years of my life and I keep unforgettable moments to this day.

Today I can safely say that I have my own home, where I live with my husband and my daughters; one that we build little by little and not with a magic wand in a second. Starting with plans, work, savings, patience, perseverance and being constant to achieve what we wanted as a team.
I do have a wonderful home where I can spend valuable hours in my bed with my daughters curled up with each other on my side, watching a movie where we laugh out loud or cry a river of tears.

My home is the smell of coffee when it is brewing in the morning or that aroma of baked cookies when I make a snack for my daughters and it permeates everything. When I'm cooking and my husband and daughters say that from outside in the hallway they already smell my seasoning. It is that moment when we feel the key and the particular sound of my husband when he is opening the door coming from the street and we know that dad has arrived and we are all complete and happy.

My home is where our things are that identify us because they are our tastes, that color or decoration, that little table that has been in the same place for years because we want it there, that floor where my daughters crawled and took their first steps. That empty apartment with only doors and walls where we entered years ago, it was converted into our home step by step, we bought it and it started as a house and today it is our home full of love, warmth and life.

I decided to write these lines earlier today while having my coffee and I saw a gift that we received the day we got married and that we still have, which says:

"A house is built with wood and nails, a home with love and dreams"