It is the parents' responsibility to prepare hot meals for us.

Home is a steaming table of food. When I opened the door, I was hugged by the fragrance.

Home is the lamp that lights up the window when you come back at night, which instantly dispels the loneliness of walking alone and the fatigue of running around;

Home is the mother's long speech, for fear of avoiding it, deep in aftertaste;

Home is my father's hard beard, which makes your cheeks ache and makes you happy.

Home is a big and strong umbrella. Once opened, it will be firmly guarded by an enchantment.