A Descriptive Essay About Home

Family is defined differently for everyone. Family members can live down the street or in another country. Some people have close knit families while others do not. Similarly, home is also defined differently for everyone. Some people might believe that home is just the house they live in, and with each move comes a new home. Others, however, believe that home is where their family is. People use family as a way to define home in slightly different ways. For example, in her essay “On Going Home,” Joan Didion writes about wanting to give her daughter “home” for her birthday. Didion describes her home as being where her family is. In his essay, “Coming Home Again,” Chang-Rae Lee uses his mother as a way of defining his home. In the third

Home is a dwelling where people unwind, mature, and can safely reside. Coates, Andreou, and Owen see home as a material structure and are chiefly concerned and focused on the importance of access to home. On the other hand, Shammas, Iyers, and De Botton view the abstract concept of home, which emphasizes that home, is about creating feelings and memories. Home is not a material place where it can be several different places and have no meaning. Home is a place where you create fond memories, feelings, and grow with the culture.

It was only a ten minute drive to our new location. I picked the town of Selma because I was not ready to switch my daughter’s school. So I still would be able to take her to school every day just as I did before we moved. My aunt gave me a gently used couch, and of course, I rented a bedroom suite and television from one of the local rental places. My daughter had a bed and a dresser in her new room, now we were all set for our new place. She was so excited to have her own room; we previously slept in the same room from her birth. Pink curtains, a pink fuzzy throw rug and a purple comforter, all were her choices for her brand new room. She took her box and unpacked her clothes, and she hung them up neatly in her new closet. The rest she neatly placed them in her clean white dresser. This was a room fit for a princess, my

Home: the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

I guess one might call it naivete, but at first, I simply associated home with the single definition of where an individual lived or as something synonymous to an address. As I progressed into high school, and moved yet once again, I realized that was not the case. Now I believe home is an atmosphere created by the people that are surrounding me. I can be anywhere and feel at home as long as I’m with those people. My home is ever changing and developing as new people come in and out of my life. The unforgettable memories and feelings of comfort and love created by the people surrounding me are the cornerstone of my idea of home.

The word ‘home’ is something that is often misunderstood. Home makes up your identity and not many people know that. Therefore you ask me, ‘what is home?’ Home is not just in your house. Home is a place that surrounds you. It’s you environment and cause for emotions. Your home is where you are with the people that surround you (peers, family, and strangers), as well as cars, houses, stores, and/or toys.

The word ‘home’ is a very complex word and not an easy one to comprehend. The word itself has so many different meanings, it means where one lives permanently as a family member or in a household, the county or country one was born in or has moved to, it can mean an institution for elderly where they get the supervision they are in need for at that age, and it also means the plate a baseball player tries to return to.

When some people think of home they think of the place they go to after a long day, or the place they sleep at night. There is so much more to make a home a home, home may not even be a place; home may be a person. My home is my family, my mom in particular though. She is a fighter, a great cook and an even better role model.

Home is being in my high school's annual homecoming parade as part of the court and rounding the corner of Ohio Street to see my entire family sitting in front of my grandparent's home, awaiting my arrival. Home is the sound of them screaming "We love you, Hailey!" as I rounded the corner. Home is breakfast that lasts for hours at the local cafe because I find myself in conversation with a different person at each table I pass. Home is growing up with the whole town as your guardians, because no matter what you are doing, everyone knows about it within a couple of hours. Growing up with that great of a support system has given me an opportunity that I believe sets me apart from other applicants. Home is community and this community has made

According to Dictionary.com “Home” is a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household (Dictionary).” The word “home” has several different meanings to it that may mean dissimilar things to many unlike people. Some say their home is where they

What is home? If one looks in a dictionary the answer would come out to be, “The place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.” However, for anyone who has had an actual home, they would know that such a term goes much beyond its concrete description. It is an impassioned aspect filled with values and foundation of nurturing. A home is not just an abode built to live in; in fact, that is just a definition of a house. Home is a place where one not only feels comfortable, but a place they look forward to opportunely live in every day. A home is built not by bricks or wood, but with the bond of family. A home is a place that reminds a person of countless memories and values when he walks through a

In a matter of fact, home is a noun that is defined in the -Collins

One place that I see every day but don’t put much attention to is my house. The house that I live in is near by a park and a gas station. My house is small and cozy is made of steel frames, the anterior part of the house has a beige and pink color that combine a beautiful shade. The inside of my house has many portraits of family members and drawings. I have a total of two bathrooms and four rooms a kitchen and two living rooms. We have a living room that’s used for grown-ups and the other one is used for the children. The kitchen table and chairs are made of wood, in the ceiling there is big chandelier. The walls of my house are painted in different colors that are green, beige and pink. I like that every room has its own different color, it’s not boring it brings life and shade.

During 5th grade year of 2016, almost once every week my parents would go and look for a house. I would remind them everyday that the house we have is great and there is no need to find another. In that house I have lived there at least eight years, which is most of my life so far. Till this day it has always been my favorite house, and the perfect house. I have made so many memories there it is impossible to count. I loved it.

When one thinks about their “home”, they get a comfortable feeling, happiness, tranquility, etc. Now, the feeling that I get when I’m at home is stress, an unknown place, sadness in which causes me to want to escape and live in a fantasy world in my mind. My house isn’t a home to be in or live in at all due to the sour relationship my stepfather has towards me, the confinement and misery, and finally the treatment I receive at home. First, my stepfather and I have a sour relationship due to his fault because he treats me like trash and always talk bad things about me behind my back to my mother or siblings. However, when my mother is home he does not say a word or treat me like dirt but recently my mother has noticed that all he does is talk about me and how I’m no good and he tries to persuade my siblings to hate me. But let’s get one thing straight, even if my siblings resent me which they don’t but if they did, they would know the whole truth about their father and who he really is, for he is the devil. I’m not as a simile, I’m saying it because it is the truth. My stepfather might look like an angel and a person who would seem like they could not hurt a fly but, if he has the chance he will do it behind your back. He made me feel like I lived in hell, in a confinement and misery for he didn’t allow me to text, have friends or even hang out with them. Lastly, he said I couldn’t have a boyfriend and the time he figured I was talking to a guy he went all crazy and