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A short story describing the beauty of home.

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The trees whipped past my window in a blur of green and brown as we drove down the country lane. I looked up and saw a church spire towering above the trees. Crows fluttered frantically as the huge bells rang out into the beautiful clean air. I inhaled deeply. It was a smell I could never grow bored of. That clean, fresh, country air; there wasn’t anything I loved more in the world.
The wind blew my hair into my eyes as I pushed my head out of the car window. The sun dazzled me for a second as it’s powerful rays hit my skin. I watched as a startled rabbit sprinted across the ploughed field in record time whilst a buzzard swooped overhead, seemingly floating on the air.
This was it. I’d found my place in the world. One can only be at peace with the world when you have found your true purpose and place. And mine was here.
My home...
 

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