Descriptive Essay About My Aunt's House

It was an early Christmas morning, I could smell the sugar cookie smell making its way through my house. I could only think of one person that could make this happen, my Abuelita. “Grandma” I shout from my room as she was in the kitchen. I wanted cookies so bad before opening our presents. But we wait for my dad to come from his house before opening presents.

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.

It was Thanksgiving again, which meant that my family was making the long trek eastward to be around my siblings and their families back at the Old Home Place. We had gathered each of the past years since our father had passed away, but this was the first year that my mother, the last of that generation, was no longer around. My brothers and sister and I all lead very different lives, and were scattered about the country with our own families and jobs to keep us apart; this was one of the only times when we were all a big happy family again.

My family and I drive from Brownstown to Rochester, to eat at my aunt’s house. We are supposed to arrive at three o’clock, but due to my mom’s inability to be on time, we are usually forty-five minutes late. When I step into the front door to my aunt’s house, my mouth begins to water. I can smell the strong aromas coming from the kitchen. I am then greeted at the door by the two small dogs yapping hello to me. I take off my shoes and proceed to the living room to say hello to the rest of the family. We then talk for awhile while my uncle finishes up the turkey. When the turkey is done we all rush to the counter to get the first plate. Turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, green beans, sausage, rolls, it is all there, waiting for us to devour it. Once the rush is over and everyone is seated at the table, we bow our heads and thank God for the wonderful food we have been blessed with. After we have all eaten and the family is done pounding me with questions regarding my future, my cousins, siblings, and I all clean off the table and wash the dishes. Once the dishes are done and our stomachs are stuffed, we pack up some of the left overs and head back

I can hear the children making a ruckus in the backyard, and the wind whistling through the trees. On this hot, summer, Sunday afternoon and John Jr. and Loretta are playing with all of their toys, while their father sits on the porch and enjoys his snuff. My eyes peer across the room to see him, my husband, through the windows as I walk to take my seat next to him on the porch where I will finish today’s stitching. Loretta is turning six next month, so I am making her a cross stitch pattern on a special blanket John Thomas bought her last week when he was in the city. The surprise must be well reserved, so I hide it when she comes near. “Mama!” calls John Jr. “When’s Granmama comin’? I’m already gettin’ hungry.”

Finally, my hunger gets the best of me and I get up, I had skipped dinner after all. Walking the few feet it takes to get to the pantry, I glance out the garage door. I don’t see the dazzling lights that glow under my sister’s praise or the jaw-dropping colors my mom crows about or the fantastic feast my grandmother makes. Confused, I turn the knob of the door. My mind thinks back to Lola, all alone on the guest bathroom floor, but quickly surpasses it knowing I’ll only be a few seconds. I creep out, knowing if my family saw I had come out they’d think I had changed my mind about the holiday and beg me to stay out. Tip-Toeing around my mother’s crimson car, I look in the driveway. There, I see my grandfather wobbling down to the road to set what was the biggest firework I had ever

Today, Grandma turns eighty four. My parents and I walk through her front door and instantly the familiar smell of orchids fills the air. Through the crowd of aunts, uncles, and cousins, I spot my Grandma, five feet tall and exceptionally well dressed. I walk over and give her a big hug and kiss. After a series of hellos and how are yous, we all make our way toward the big blue couch and plop ourselves down. We orient ourselves around her, like elephants gathering around the wise matriarch of the herd. We listen as she reads, In My Own Words- Helen’s Memoir, out loud. She scans the room and sees her six children and thirteen grandchildren gathered around her tiny living room. With a youthful voice that doesn’t match her eighty

13 is going to my great-uncle’s house on my birthday, Christmas Eve, just like every year. The Christmas tree is bright and colorful, with all the presents underneath its light. The presents under the tree are for Christmas and my birthday as well. Many of my relatives are here: aunts, uncles, my parents, great-aunts and uncles, and they sit by the couches as they arrive, catching up on all the news, while I go upstairs to play with my six-year-old cousin, Melody. We play whatever she wants, but I teach her some games that I know as well. When it is time, everyone eats dinner, where there are a variety of Chinese foods some I like and some I don’t, but that’s alright with me. Gradually, the cups fill with wine and apple cider, and the conversation

When we finally turn down grandma's street, we realize we are almost there. My sisters and I are jumping out of our seats and unbuckling our seat belts because we know what's inside. We know there are presents under a decorated, festive tree that need to be opened. As my sisters and I quickly hop out the car, we jump onto the frosted, dewy grass,

The challenges to match sockets to fully light the tree, searching through numerous tubs to find the decoration needed for the dinner table, debating on where to place the ancient Twas the Night Before Christmas novel, but nothing beats the satisfying feeling when seeing the house dressed in its holiday best. A mixture of spices, pine, and sweets devour the air along with the spirit of St. Nicolas. With trees in place waiting for Santa to stuff them, with Jingle the Elf watching over the little ones, with the house creating a captivating aroma, it is time to begin holiday season.

One day my brother, mother, and father all went to my grandma’s for christmas. When we got there; my cousins, aunts, and uncle’s were all there. So once I got out of the car I got out and ran inside. As I was getting inside I saw all of my cousins. My cousins were happy to see me because I rarely see them. My cousins ran up to me and gave me hugs. After my family and I unpacked the car full of gifts we went inside and ate breakfast. After we ate breakfast we got to play a for little bit while the adults cleaned the kitchen up. So we went outside and played with the toys at my grandma’s house. When we got outside we got the football out and the wiffle ball bat and wiffle ball that went with it. First we played with the football me

Every summer we would drive to Ohio to visit Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Jim, and Aunt Nicole. Every summer, it was tradition. We would drive eight hours from St. Louis to Toledo, Ohio. We only stopped for gas and food which we normally packed with us. We would spend a week up north on average. We would stay with my grandparents and always meet up with our Aunt and Uncle. My grandparents, the Howe’s, had a big two-story house. The upstairs hallway was cut-out so you could see the downstairs living room and the kitchen. My parents would stay in my mom’s old room, my sisters in the quest room, and me in my uncle’s room. We would spend the days there hanging out, playing outside, and going around town. One year we went up up to Lake Michigan

When I walk through the door, I immediately know where I am. I’ve been coming here since I was just a kid. It’s the beach house we go to as a family every summer. Just thinking about being there makes me really happy as I remember all the great memories I have of that place. I remember the first time my older cousin brought her future husband to meet our family. I remember the first time I got to hold my baby cousin. I look back over years I can see my family growing up as my grandparents decide to retire, my aunt and uncle get married and have kids, my cousins graduating from high school and college, and one is now even married and has a kid on the way.

Once her Grandma's wrinkled hand had touched her shoulder, she knew what she was going to ask her. She didn’t want to visit the rancid-smelling and dark attic. Susie loved her granny, but she hated how her grandmother would use her to acquire objects out of the attic because her she can’t get up to the attic. Her grandma was getting very old and had very annoying arthritis. Susie felt that she always needed to help in anyway that she could. Susie was against going there because the small, beady-eyed dolls would talk to her in her head.

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.