To Pranay Oscar Lakra, who has such an amazing personality.
Happy birthday, in advance.
We’ve all been taught about the differences between a house and a home. A home has people, whereas a house does not. I remember I had a poem about it in eighth grade.
A home is the way you eat dinner together every night with your family, watching TV and laughing together. A home is the way your bedroom door creaks when you open it. A home is the way your bathroom door won’t quite close completely. A home is your messy room, your overflowing desk drawer. It’s your cluttered closet, and the way you just shove your clothes inside and quickly close it before they can all come falling down.
It’s the pieces of dust that are settled in the corners. It’s the ants that come in search of food. The way the crows come sit near the window when you’re eating, in hopes that you will feed them. The way the stray dogs that live near your house wag their tails and lick you as soon as you come out the door.
A home is the way the music keeps blaring out the speakers all day long, because your mom can’t work without it. A home is all the fights and arguments, and the making-ups after. It’s the smells wafting from the kitchen as your mom cooks.
A home is the way you try to be as quiet as possible at night, because your family’s sleeping. It’s fighting for the TV remote with your dad. Home is knowing that, no matter how far you go, you always have a place to come back to.
Home is comfort. Home is joy. Home is love. And, sometimes, home is a person.