Descriptive Essay About My Aunt's House

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.

In my lifetime, I have lived in 4 different homes. None of them can even compare to the very first home I lived in, in my hometown of Allentown, Pennsylvania. It was a quaint duplex home that was on a tranquil street underneath a towering maple tree. Nothing will ever be able to replace its permanent spot in my heart.

It was an unusual quiet evening at my favorite diner. I always loved meeting my beautiful wife here after a long day of work to get some of Chicago’s best coffee. Upon opening the front door, the welcoming smell of freshly ground coffee fills my nostrils as I take a deep breath, but at the same time, I lose my breath as I spot my stunning wife waiting for me. She was wearing a vibrant red dress, as she knows that it’s my favorite, while her hair shimmered in the light.

The familiar smell of soft cookies and homemade cooking are common thoughts when people think about their grandma's house. Great feasts and family gatherings play a part in everyone's grandmother's home. But when I really think about my grandma's house only one word comes to my mind: fun.

In a small town called Whigham located in the southwest part of Georgia is a home numbered 201 in the middle of Harrell Avenue Northwest. The home is shaded by a mighty oak tree, its exterior is white in color with a forest green metal door and window trim painted forest green to match the door. On the outside this house is full of plant life, two domestic dogs that guard the home from morning to night, and wild animals living off the provisions of the land. The inside of the house is full of geckos, family, and love. This is the house I was raised in since my mother and father brought me home from Grady General Hospital in the month of January in 1991. This home will forever be my safety and my delight.

The day was definitely not perfect. The trees stood up tall, but with no leaves. The day was cold, with clouds and no sun. And of course, there was a van, parked in my driveway, waiting for me to hop in and take me to a new home.

“Wow” My mom said glancing to the side of the road and behind a large grey building. “It seems so barren now.” she said shifting her eyes back onto the road, her hair fluffing up as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe they’re chopping down so many trees.” I heard sadness bubbling up in her voice as the traffic light turned green and my mom drove the car forward. I look back at the empty plot of land, a place that used to be packed with trees, trees that had been there for hundreds of years. I watch the desolate yard of stumps fade off behind us as we continue on home. The thoughts still roam around in my head. How many trees does it take before they stop? One more? Ten more? A hundred more? Or will the only reason to stop be the extinction of them as a whole?

I close the car door and step onto the snow covered pavement. The dogs bark inside of my aunt’s house, and my family and I walk in. I am greeted by my aunts, uncles, and grandma on my dad’s side. My cousins, who are much older than me, sit in the living room enjoying the store bought peanuts, popcorn, and trail mix. I make my way past the crowded kitchen and settle on the stained couch. “Yeti”, the classic Christmas SYFY movie, plays on the TV. Unique ornaments cover the Christmas tree, while the dim Christmas lights reveal the dust that lingers on the worn out wooden floor. Before I know it, Lena and Hanse, my aunt’s two boxers, jump on my lap. They lick, drool, and nibble on me with excitement. I pet the dogs, but gently push them onto my sister. Brianne rolls her eyes, and nudges the dogs onto the floor. My grandma rests on the old rocking chair, laughing at the chaos. My aunt Bev sits on the couch beside my grandma. Both are dressed in Christmas sweaters, and have freshly permed hair. It is hard to keep a conversation with them because they both struggle with hearing. Trying to pay attention to the predictable show, my stomach growls; however, the smells that drift into the living room from the kitchen are not appetizing. Therefore, I take a small bowl of popcorn and trail mix.

The house that I’ve grew up in is very unique, my parents built it by hand, no help from anyone besides some family and friends. My dad and his ex wife started building it before they got divorced, and there was only 2 floors because then it was only a home for a family of 4. When my mom and dad got married they had to build more onto it because the family of 4 turned into a family of 6. Plus both of my parents would help anyone that needed it, and so they became foster parents. All my siblings and their children call where I live “The Farm” because our house sits on around 450 acres land, that have anywhere from horse and cows grazing in it at almost all times to baling hay during the summer months. There is always something going on at The Farm.

Any person in the right mind wouldn’t like living the life that I’m living. But I guess I’m not in the right mind, considering I love my life. My mom died when I was five from cancer. I don’t remember her much, but judging from stories my dad told me, she seemed very nice. And from the pictures I’ve seen I know she was beautiful, I’m talking super model looks. She must not have been any kind of model, though or else we would have had a lot more money. In case you didn’t know, I’m Alexa (preferably Alex) and I have cancer as well. Leukemia. I can tell my dad worries about me. If I died he’d be all alone, but I don’t plan on doing that anytime soon. Speaking of,

The back door of the moving truck slammed shut, making me slightly jump gasping in surprise. I turned in my seat and look at the house, I've lived my whole life in. Gloomily I stare remembering all the happy and sad times I've had here.

Living in a city can make you forget the outside world. You forget about the green grass, the trees, the chirping birds, the animals, and so many other things the world has to offer. We also forget the people who came before us, who did so much for us, who built everything we have today. We’re so busy doing stuff that is unimportant, that we forget about the stuff that is. Getting a house in Connecticut, made me realize all these things. It made me more in touch with nature and history. I got my country house about 8 years ago, and I think it changed me for the better.

When you step into my room, the first thing you will notice is the golden afternoon sunlight fluttering in and dancing around because of the large sycamore trees outside my window. The window is fairly large, as my house is a Cape Cod style home. The reason for the window being so large is that it is one of the primary dormer windows on the second floor that front the street. The window is also set in alcove that is approximately two feet deep, and is framed with white wooden shutters on both sides. I have always been a very optimistic and happy person, and this large window letting in the golden light of nature is a fantastic representation of my personality.

My Grandmother’s house will always have a special place in my heart. I love it so much because it’s her only house in Florida. She was raised up in the Cayman Islands, where she spent most of her life until she moved down to Florida. When she came to move in, I was about 10 and was overly excited to help her move in. Driving into the neighborhood, the first thing I noticed was that all the houses looked very similar, a dark brown roof with white walls and some stairs leading to the front door, which always seemed to creep me out. When I got to my Grandmother’s house, it was in the corner of a cul de sac. In the middle of the cul de sac, was a very large oak tree surrounded by dark green bushes with different colored plants and surrounding it was a cement curb. The tree stood about 50 feet tall and the bushes were bright green with red leaves on them and changed colors during the fall. In front of the house to the left was a patch of grass for a garden and to the right was a sidewalk that would lead to the backyard. When I walked in, the first thing to grab my eye was this giant mirror she had in the living room. It’s one of the biggest mirrors i’ve seen. It stood maybe about 50 feet tall and covers the whole back wall of her living room. Upstairs, she has two guest bedrooms along with her own master bedroom. Downstairs was the kitchen and dining room and in the kitchen she had an enclosed patio as well as one next to the living room. Both patios lead to the backyard where

My grandmother’s house has a very special place in my heart. As the family has gotten older and we have all had our own children we do not visit as we should. I visited with my grandmother many times when I was little. Her house always seemed to have something about it that set it apart from all the rest. As you walk into the back door of her house you would notice a long, narrow kitchen that led into the main living and dining room of her house. The smell of food home cooked food was quite evident. Grandmother cooked every day and always cooked big meals on holidays for the family.