By Elizabeth Tang Grade 6
The sunlight dappled on the slides and swings, birds are twittering in the trees, and the wind is blowing on my face—everything seems just as it was when I was little. The splendor of nature transported me into a trance for a moment. I can hear, from afar, children’s laughing voices floating in the sky; I can smell the fragrance of flowers from grandma’s garden wafting toward me. This is the true home of the heart! A place where only happiness can enter!
“Hey! Honey, have you finished your homework yet? We are all waiting for you!” Mom’s voice smashed my beautiful dreams, pulling me back to real life. The pressure of my mom’s urging and the blank homework threatened me until I closed my eyes. I looked up; there was a birdcage hanging on the wall. The little bird stood there indolently. Did it remember the life of flying among the trees? It won’t remember; it will forget everything. Just like the flowers near the window, they would never know the life outside in the natural world, playing with the wind and chatting with the sunlight.
Suddenly, an amiable silhouette entered my visual field—it was my grandma. Her gentle appearance was out of place. Besides my grandma, the floor was cluttered with gadgets and technology devices that were a misfit for her, but she sat there like an old tree, not minding our noise, just silently watching us tap away at phones and iPads.
Oh, at that time, I finally noticed: the fast pace and bustle of the modern world are actually a kind of test for our souls.
But where is the real home for us? Have we forgotten the real instincts of humans? In this century, people keep working for money, children have more homework and pressure, and grown-ups have more worries. Dad is using a computer on the dining table, mom tapping all day with her phone. Have we ever asked ourselves this question: What is the real home for us? After all, a house is not only a haven; since adults work there, it may be a bureau for them.
However, when we finish our work and lie on the bed, it’s the most cozy moment of the day. When I think back on this, I realized—there’s no place made of only fun; what we love are the happy memories there. Just like my grandma’s house, I like it because I have good memories.
The place called home is the place where you can accept yourself. Any place where you feel at ease is your home.
It is not the walls or the roof that define a home, but the peace we carry inside us. In other words, if you know how to enjoy your life, the earth will be your amusement park.
