home is where my heart is.

It's the pile of laundry that looks like the leaning tower of pizza and the empty plates stained with triple berry pie filling by the sink. It's the drizzle of threads littering the floor from a recent sewing project and the cool breeze that flees through the house, bringing coats of dust with it -- but we don't care because it's just a little too crisp and cool to be shut out. It's home.

It's this feeling that sometimes gets me -- when I see my mom laughing hard and all I can do is look her way and feel indescribably happy that she is so happy. It bubbles and churns and aches. It's when I look at my brothers and just thank God that he gave me people who are by my side through the crazy, hard, exciting times in life. It's when I see my dad working hard for us and praying for us.

It's when life suddenly flashes before my eyes, and I feel something that isn't happy or angry. It's just wonder. Dear life, I like you.