Descriptive Essay About My Grandparents House

Right when I walked through the door, I got a burst of happiness. I felt safe, warm, and loved. The house smelled just like a fresh batch of moist, delicious brownies right out of the oven. There wasn't a single time I walked through the door and felt disappointed or sad. This feeling is just one of the many reasons my grandma had a huge impact on my life.

This house was the best as a child it had a long drive way and big field of green grass and cows. I grew a big connection to my childhood house like roots to a tree. It was a little down the road from Mt.Peak and I would always going hiking because it was enjoying for me to be with nature. I remember elementary school and seeing the same faces in some of my classes tell this day. I met my best friend in kindergarten and I’m still really good friends. Growing up in a small town there was always the same faces and same people working at the local grocery store, it takes around a minute to walk through town, most of the time you can take a bike to your friend’s house, walking to school wasn’t that hard because it’s not far and of course the same old smell of

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.

As me and my mom pull into to the driveway of my grandmas house my heart is racing a million miles per second in excitement. I walk into the house where my grandma, cousins, aunts and uncles are so invite ful and happy to see me and my mom. There is food prepared by my

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.

Like all homes, my home contains a kitchen. The kitchen represents fond memories of my mom

Driving to Long Prairie, on the right side of the road, up a hill with a long, paved driveway will be a house to the left. This house is two-stories with a basement. The first time I saw it, the house had a worn out, light tan vinyl siding with faded, dark red shutters from years of Minnesota weather. At the end of the driveway was a garage that resembled the houses color. To the right of the driveway was a large stone wall that was overrun with wild grape vines. In the middle of the wall was a stairway that leads to an old, rundown playhouse. Also, there was a large, gray brick shed further away. Beyond the house are the woods, littered with pine needles from the rows of trees my grandpa planted when he moved there. The whole area is surrounded by the overpowering smell of pine, and the silence the woods carries; it brings a calming, peaceful sensation to me. As the years have gone on, the house and I have aged, grown, and changed together.

I knew from a very young age that my family wasn 't a “typical” family, my parents were always working or neglecting my brother and I. If it wasn 't for my grandparents I wouldn 't know what unconditional love is. Throughout all my struggles and mistakes in life, they continue to support and love me without question.

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.

I grew up always seeing conflict, whether that was my parents against my older siblings or my siblings against each other. It was exhausting and as I grew older I too became part of the conflict with my siblings or my parents. I never felt like my house was my home. Do not take this the wrong way, I love my family very much. It’s just that the conflict I was always seeing, hearing, or being a part of deterred me from having that ‘homey’ feeling that one gets when they just relax on the couch in the living room watching Tv. When I first met my boyfriend’s (his name is Brandon by the way) Grandmother I immediately felt like I knew her. We both had difficult family lives in certain ways so we empathized with each other and this made us more close with each other. I grew to love her as my own grandmother, and considered her as such. It felt like I never had one because my grandmother had stopped coming around after my grandfather passed because we are not blood related. So I look forward to visiting his grandmother's house. It is very quaint and content.

Throughout my childhood my family made a habit of visiting my grandparents’ home as often as we could. At six years old, I can remember getting excited on the short, fifteen minute drive to their house as I sat in my pink floral car seat with my most recent creation from first grade art class laying on my lap. As my father was driving, I would try to recall and make mental lists of all of the stories I intended to share with my grandparents as soon as walked in their door. However, I rarely got past my second anecdote before my grandmother would offer me a sample of her latest baking experiment. Being a six-year-old with a quite a sweet tooth, I could never refuse her offer. I always left my grandparents’ home with two things: my grandmother’s rosy lipstick mark on my forehead and a bag of sweets in my hands.

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.

Some of my favorite childhood memories are of my grandfather and me. One could say that we had a tradition. Often, he would pick me up from gymnastics and go through the drive through of McDonald’s to get me a chocolate shake. And during the trip to his house, we would talk about our day and the exciting things that had occurred. Although we talked about many different things on our way to his house, we always sang “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. I remember looking out the windows while we sang and admired the beauty of the night. Coming up to the big red barn I knew that we were almost there. My grandparents lived near Saint Peter, Minnesota on Lake Washington. And every night after eating dinner, we would make a fire, look out upon the

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.