My dream home would be full of laughter. Walking through the door you would be greeted with a vanilla or cinnamon smell. It would have lamps of warm light throughout, with cozy blankets sprawled across big comfy couches that have a story – or at least look like they have a story. The walls would be covered in photographs and frames of happy moments, adventures frozen in time. The rooms would all have their own personality, rubbed off from the person who lives in each one. The home would have hugs and jokes and memories. Plants nursed back from the brink of death multiple times. Dog fur gathered in corners that keeps evading the vacuum and broom. Windows big and wide that allow sunshine to bathe the floor and create the perfect temperature to stand in and warm your toes. Books would be lined up on shelves, ready to be lent out or read again.
The ideal home would be warm and soft and welcoming.
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