Our house on Claymor Avenue is a home.
We have a pet who greets us at the door. A living room with sofas where we can hang out and do work together or watch movies and play games. We have a dining table for big meals and studying and having friends over.
Our kitchen is filled with baking and leftover bacon from Sunday’s brunch. There are duvets and tea cups lying around. Cat and dog toys are everywhere. We have flowers and a garden and a bike shed. The warmest shower and the comfiest sofas. Each bedroom is personalized with photographs and posters and cards, books and blankets, clothes and socks, homework and essays, CD’s and movies.
This is home and it is a lovely place to be, especially now that winter is here.
On our first day out together, I invited my parents over to see the house and experience the homey feeling for themselves.
They both loved it and enjoyed their visit. Mr Sidekick was a particularly big hit. He entertained with his impressive gymnast routines and with his exceptional human-like personality. The visit ended swiftly when my dad began to sneeze and sneeze and sneeze. Poor Sidekick did not understand why we had to cut short his afternoon performance. After all, he had been practicing all week.