Descriptive Essay About My Childhood

Most people can relate the word “home” to one area where they grew up and made memories. Unlike most people, I called many places home. Growing up in a military family was an arduous task which had great impacts, both positive and negative, on my life. It shaped me into the person I am today. A person with a laundry list of flaws and imperfections, yet has learned to love herself.

1.1 – Explain the factors that need to be taken into account when assessing development

As the United States slipped into the Great Depression in the early 1930s, President Hoover's most generous response was to lend government funds to__________________

Home is the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household of or relating to the place where one lives. Home can and can’t be a physical environment. It can, because you have those connected thoughts, memories, feelings, and so much more to you house. Home also can be the environment, like the people, and animals all around you. Home also maybe could not be a physical environment because, You might feel like living there since it looks nice but does not have a good surrounding environment. For Esperanza, she is not proud of the House on Mango Street that she lived in when she was young. she feels like that it’s a dump and the places around it makes her feel bad on the inside.“There? The way she said it

When home comes to mind I think of my home town, so small it can’t even be considered a town, Matawan, New Jersey. As a kid when I would say where I was from people would automatically look at me with a bewildered face and ask “Where is that?”. Being in a small town there has been some advantages like knowing everyone in my around two hundred and seventy person graduating class. Playing sports in a small town allowed me to develop friendships from a young age that will last a lifetime. By growing up in a small town and a small school, there was a definite sense of community. I remember when a classmate was diagnosed with cancer our small school rallied together and organized multiple fundraisers to try and pay for a treatment in Germany for

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

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.

After a long day of the real world home was a place to get away from everything on the outside. When I would step foot into my house every problem I had through out the day stayed out side on the porch. I never brought my problems home because home is suppose to be a problem free zone, a place to relax your mind. I did a lot a thinking when I was behind the walls of my home. Sometimes I would stay

our villa there is a garage where we can park both our cars and Jet

The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning

When I was a young child I would love to hear my parents tell me that we were going on a trip. I would be full of excitement, because I knew that we would be going to a place that I had never seen before. My parents, my brother, and I would pack our luggage and venture out in our small gray minivan. Three of my most cherished memories in our minivan are when we went to Disney World, the beach, and the mountains.

My earliest memory I remember as a child is around the age of two years old. My Mother would put me in the playpen but I refused to stay. I was able to climb out of it. I remembered my Mother’s face expression that let me know that I better not climb out of the playpen again. This was one of my earliest memories of her setting her boundaries. When I got older, my Mother told me about the situation. She needed to clean and/or cook so she had to put me in the playpen. At the age of two years old, I just wanted to explore and didn’t want to stay in the playpen. This set the tone between us moving forward.

During my childhood waking up early in the morning was one of my favorite things,especially during the summer.I remember waking up one morning to the sound of spongebob on my T.V..Almost as soon as I opened my eyes I immediately got out of bed and ran into the kitchen to find bacon on the table.I shoved two whole peices straight into my mouth and I swear that it was some of the best I have ever had.I sat down in my wooden chairto eat more off of the table.As I finished I remember looking ouside to a bright day.The suns rays hit the dew on the grass just right to make it glisten.

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.

What does one call a place where they feel safe? A place where one is surrounded by loved ones? A place where one can forget the worries of the world for even a brief moment. A place where no matter what happens, they will always have a place to return to. They have the deepest of connections with those that live there; connections that they know will never be severed no matter what happens. That is home. Home can be defined as where a person lives or has a permanent residence, but it is more than that when pondering on the emotional connection it has with the heart. A common phrase that is constantly used is “there is no place like home”. It is not because a person misses their previous residence, but due to the many qualities it possesses that could possibly never be found anywhere else. Home is not simply a place where one lives, but a place where love, contentment, and tranquility are abound.