I hear my yellow rain boots squeak as I walk up the chipping concrete stairs that have an ashy tint to them. I struggle to open the big oak door, with my red Spider-Man lunch box, in hand. As I opened the door and slid off my boots I caught a whiff of the distinct aroma of fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies. Suddenly, I heard the nails of my best friend scratching against the deep brown mahogany floors as he ran towards me. I looked up in anticipation seeing a blur of white and light brown fur running towards me with my arms held out waiting for the warm embrace of his fur and to hear him panting in my ear. As I give my dog a hug, I hear the familiar voice of my Mom and Dad over the rattling of my dogs collar, calling out for me from the kitchen. When I peek into the kitchen I see my parents looking at me with smiles on their face, as I look onto the table I see a big red plate full with warm chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of milk. I run over to my parents and give them the biggest hug my six year old self could give, in that moment everything was perfect. I now realize that home might not be where you live but its where your heart is. That moment could have happened anywhere, but my home is where my family is.