A House is Not a Home

Words by: Marla Sommer
Art by: Therese Dias

I was 12 when my parents bought what is now our family home, nestled in between beach and parkland. I remember being the first to slide my hands across the sold sticker; while my parents were busy adulting, I was already picking my room. It never occurred to me how much being at that one auction would shape what I’d come to know as home.

A House is Not a Home