_(I am back from camping, it was quite fun! Hope you have a wonderful day!)_

A house is like a name. You didn’t choose it, you were given it at birth, and you can’t control it.

It is something you carry on your back.

A house is a place you are tied to. You can leave, but the house is still _yours_ or your family’s. You are stuck to it.

A house can be a burden or it can be something you smile for. It can feel like you’re drowning when you mention the place you live, the pain you felt or feel. It can feel like a celebration when you talk about your house, the pride you feel or felt.

A house is a noun, a physical place, but even so, you can’t leave. It is something you are tied to. It can even just be a last name.

A home is like a nickname or a chosen name. You get to find your home. You can control who is in your home and _who you are_ in your home. It is something you carry in your heart.

A home is like people your heart yearns to be close to. You can’t live without it. Your heart is tied to it and you are stuck because you are all together forever.

A home is something you carry with a smile and a warm heart. Your heart beats for it. Your heart beats faster just thinking about it. It is like a hug after a rough day.

A home isn’t a noun, it isn’t a place. It’s people and thing you love. You can’t leave because your friends hold your hands and follow wherever you go. It can even just be one person or thing.