My Home…

There was an argument between me and my parents last Christmas break. Though I couldn’t exactly recall what was it about, I remembered that it was somehow related to the concept of home. For them, home would be a place where they are rooted; for me, home would be a place where all my beloved ones would be. The location does not really matter, as long as there are people and things that I care and love.

“Home wasn’t a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. (Dessen)”

It is only when I moved to Canada for university education, I realized how much I miss my parents. I would never say they are the best parents on earth, for they have forced their own wills on me. I never had any chance to play with other kids after school. What’s ahead of me were a bunch of different tutorial classes. But I could never forget the notes that my mother left after settling me in the university dorm. That’s my very first taste of ‘love’ from my parents.

As I alone stayed in Canada, I started realizing those motivations behind their every decision. They are love and protection that I had never understood. My parents have always been planning ahead of me, so as to swipe out any hindrance in my life. My parents have always been my toughest shelter when I need comfort and help. My parents have always tried to fulfill my every desire even at the time when my family was at the edge of bankrupt. I would say, they are not the best parents on earth, but they are the best parents of mine. With them, I feel so secure. My definition of home could never be completed without their presence.

My plush toys are something I would never ever give up on, for I am the only child in my family, and have spent most of my childhood with them. They are my friends and I name every each of them.

I was not used to express myself when I was small, so whenever I want to talk to somebody, I talked to my stuffed toys. It may sound creepy, but I think I can sense their feelings whenever I talked to them. Though they couldn’t talk physically, I receive comfort from them when I was sad; and I received joy from them when I shared something happy. Most importantly, I could not sleep without my plush toys around me at night. Therefore, when I moved to Canada, I had the idea of bringing all my plush toys, for they are part of my sense towards home. Undoubtedly, my mother banned this crazy idea, but I brought a few of them with me. To me, home would never be home without my plush toys!


“Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?” […] “For the two of us, home isn’t a place. It is a person. And we are finally home. (Perkins)”

There is another person that I would say “with him, I’m home”. He is my husband, my best friend, my teacher and my lifelong supporter.

Without him, I may be living a miserable life now, for we met during the time that I was completely lost in the journey of life. He has guided me with patience and has showed me how wonderful life could be. I could not really express our experience in words clearly as there are always some stories that would leave you speechless. To sum up, he would be where I belong to.


Home, in my opinion, is where my parents, husband and plush toys are. Missing any one of them, home would never be a home again.

Works Cited

Perkins, Stephanie. “Anna and the French Kiss.” U.S.: Dutton Juvenile, 2010. Print.

Dessen, Sarah. “What Happened to Goodbye.” U.S.: Viking Juvenile, 2011. Print.


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