Descriptive Essay About Home

The street I live on has a lot of houses on it, and mine just happens to be one of them. Each house has its own driveway each one unique in its own way. Most of them are paved driveways, but mine happens to be made from hard pack. I can picture the driveway when it was built, still in the same place and still being made of rocks.

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.

Home is a place where everyone should feel a sense of belonging. No matter where people go in life, they can continually go back home. I once thought that home is where I live. Physically, I live in a house in Smith County with my family. I am blessed to have a roof over my head with many things, but I do not feel like I belong where I am from. I come from a good family, but I detested what I used to call home because of the constant turmoil and uncertainty. I blamed myself for the conflicts that would arise, so I disliked myself. For over thirteen years, I called home a place I resented many times, but thankfully, I found my perfect home, which is more superior than a house. The home I am referring to is Jesus Christ.

Home is a mindset. With definitions of “home” varying for so many people, there is no way to tie it to a single, concrete definition. People from both extremes, those who stay and those who wander, derive pleasure and contentment from their choices of “home”. Tying a definition to the word “home” is similar to attempting to define what makes a human being feel comfortable. The words, while simple on the surface, mean very different things to every person making them impossible to define completely. So what is a home? Home to me is a location, a sensation, and a state of mind that is combination of four different aspects: shared happiness, the present moment, passion, and the ability to adapt.

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.

Everybody may have their own definition of a home, but I do believe that we can all agree on the general idea that it is a place of comfort.This relates to the phrase “home is where the heart is.” I agree with this that it is not one set geographic location. Home to me is a place where I feel safe and surrounded by people I

The definition of home is “the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.” The movie definition of home is “home is where the heart is.” The definition of home to me is where you feel the most safe, comfortable, and where your heart is filled with the most love. Additionally, home to me means being able to wear sweats all day, cuddle up to someone you love, watch a movie and enjoying the lazy, none hectic work or schools days. Not to mention, home is a place where after traveling around and seeing everything there was to see and still thinking the place you grew up was a better place to travel too. Furthermore, I believe home changes just like people evolve. An example of that would be at first your

To me, home is every place I’ve lived in, and this has especially been true as I get older, because I become old enough to be independent and really explore the city I’m in. However, with that being said, theres the problem that every time we move, I feel like I’m moving away from my “home”. While some people look at this and see it as a great lifestyle and opportunity—which, don't get me wrong, it is—they don't understand the identity crisis that goes along with it, as well as my extended background, making it harder for me to even wrap my head around.

What does “home” mean to you? To me, it is not just about the coziness, cleanness and tidiness, but a dwelling place together with my family offering security and happiness. This is where I began my own unique story and found love, hope and dreams.

Home is a place where one naturally lives or is located, or a point of origin. Although these definitions may display many similarities between a house and a home, a home is so much more than a house. Home is a place someone can call their own. A place where they don't feel pressured to be someone other than themselves. Home can be a country that you were born in or raised in. It can be a place away from the constant noise and stress of everyday life, where you feel welcome. Home might even be a future destination. There is no limit to the amount of homes you can have throughout a lifetime.

If someone were to talk about a “home”, there could be a number of things that could come to mind. When I personally think of home I think of a place of peace and acceptance that you share with the ones you love. No matter what your definition of “home” is, everyone grows up in a different home environment. I first lived in Farmington, Minnesota but eventually moved to Prescott, Wisconsin in fourth grade. One of the things that I think has effected my very own home environment is the fact that my dad has a white collar job. My dad is a certified public accountant and

I had violent, grass-stained war games with my neighborhood friends, while my mother worked in her small vegetable garden among the honeybees, and watched things grow. An ever-present warming smell of knishes and hot dogs permeated around every inch of my block as the nearby concession pumped a constant flow of fresh food to hungry little leaguers and their families. Looking up, the summer sky looked like an Easter egg God had dipped in blue dye.

To me home is where you go to get away from the crazy outside world. Home is a place where you feel a sense of belonging and familiarity. Home for me is currently here in Derby, Kansas. For almost 19 years now my home has been where my mother lives. My mom makes wherever we stay at feel like home. I feel the love and security I get throughout the house and it 's just the greatest feeling. It is the first house my parents have owned and it makes it that much more special to me. I am blessed I have a place to go when I want to escape the rest of the world.

My house, not my home, just my house. There is a difference, but I wonder if anyone notices other than me. A home has special touches, the cozy feelings, family, memories, and most importantly it gives you and your family something to be proud of. It is something your parents have worked hard to have, it is hopefully a place you feel safe, loved and know better than anywhere. Home isn’t really based on what it looks like, it’s a feeling, or is it a mix of both?

As I opened the way to the dreadful old frequented house on my road, I began to surmise that perhaps this wasn't such a smart thought. I admonished myself for needing to turn back, and reluctantly ventured inside to investigate. My darker hair and dim dark colored eyes made me for all intents and purposes cover in the wood-framed anteroom, aside from my old dim hooded sweatshirt and agreeable red sweat pants. I was normal tallness for eleven, however I was all the while must admire check for spider webs. I needed to clean my glasses since so much tidy had gathered on them. My hair required washed as of now since so much tidy has gathered on it. As I strolled through the entryway on my right side, I understood this must be the formal fining room. An old, Victorian style table with eight rich seats was clearly the point of convergence of the room, laying on an excellent green, gold, and red conditioned cover. The hardwood flooring around it composed immaculately with the covering, which came roughly 33% of the path up the exquisite gold-painted divider. The tremendous picture window was confined by a custom bureau with a smorgasbord coming to simply beneath the windowsill. My heart was beating, and the room noticed dusty, smelly, and faintly of roses. On the table there was a substantial bunch of red roses, and eight green, red, and gold place mats. Another red rose, each in a thin vase, sat at each place. I chose to look through the bureau by the window to check whether