Home.

Home. A home is so much more than the walls, rooms, doors and windows. 

When I was younger, I'd always want to go out, whether it was with friends or family. Shopping, cinemas, eating out.. it didn't matter as long as I was out. Fast forward 10 years or so and the essence of home has changed so much.

Home has become a place of happiness and comfort; a retreat even, after a bad day or a long week at work. Sometimes now when I’m out with my friends or cousins, all I look forward to is going home and talking to Mum over a cup of coffee and catching up on Hollyoaks with her. Late nights are almost a thing of the past and the best weekends, albeit pretty boring, are when I can stay at home all day and have a Gilmore Girls marathon.

A couple of months ago, my parents and two younger brothers went abroad and the house felt so bare. It wasn’t the same coming home to an empty house after work. As much as I sometimes want some peace and quiet, I realised that the life and soul of a home comes from the people who live in it. 

A home isn't just bricks and concrete, but a place where the foundation is love, cemented by the bonds shared between a family, built over a lifetime. 

Home is the mess my brother's make when they do something, the sweaty smell of their clothes when they come back from football, the laughter in the air when we're making jokes.

Home is my dad's business papers scattered around, his jumpers lying on the sofa, his words of wisdom covered in little specks of anger at times, the scent of his aftershave that lingers around even when he's out somewhere. 

Home is my mum's presence; her smile as soon as I walk in through the doors, the unlimited advice she gives, the smell of her cooking... but most of all, home is in her arms.