This past weekend I’ve been sick with a cold and its really got me missing home. This might have been one of few times that I’ve actually felt homesick but its really got me thinking about what makes a home a home. Is it the people in side the house that make it a home? Is is just the place your grew up? Is home just the place you live? After pondering for a few moments I’d have to say for me what made my house a home growing up were the pictures on the wall, shoes by the front door, and sound of my mother screaming from downstairs that dinner is ready. The funny thing about this is that growing up I always thought that home was just the place you lived. It wasn’t until I grew up and moved out of my childhood home and into my first apartment that I realized that home was everything that made me me and though I had my own apartment, there were no pictures on the wall, shoes at the door, and no one downstairs shouting that dinner was ready. I guess you could say that I’m a baby and I’m just really missing home this Tuesday ( because I am) but nothing makes me more appreciative than thinking about home and the rich memories I’ve had there.