Descriptive Essay About My Home

Many times I would lie on my bed and listen to the rain hitting the roof outside my window and I could smell that rain, that’s a great smell. Other nights I would fall asleep in my bed as a cool breeze flowed through my bedroom leaving the air a little crisp, but oh so comfortable. On winter days, I usually had the window closed, obvious reasons. I would lie on my bed drawing cartoon characters, listening to

Whenever I was there I always felt so loved and safe and happy. I was content spending all my time in the pool room. It was a large room that added on to the house. It had a large pool table in the middle of the room. In the right corner was a small bar and a small fridge and TV on the wall. On the other side of the room there were book shelves, stacked with my grandfather’s toys and models. He would have the most random things on the shelf. From toy trucks to model ships to old pictures. I loved that pool room so much I didn 't even sleep in my room but would sleep on the red velvet couch next to the wall, facing the TV. The best part of the room is the view looking into the backyard and the pool. Having a view of the water always made me happy and content.

My room’s door is painted with Brown Color. It has some scratches at the bottom because of my little brother drawing and scraping it with his pencil colors and also. My German Shepard taps on the door when he wants to hang out with me. I have a poster in my room that is filled with memorable memories of me with my family. That poster is hanged on a wall with a nice frame, colored in brown that matches the color of the dressing mirror in my room. My room is painted with crystal white paint.

On a dry hot day in the middle of August, I was awaken to mother’s happy voice saying, “We ‘re here guys!” My excited family and I had just arrived at our two-story brick house at a beautiful resort called “Ding Ding Castle” in Orlando, Florida. My mom, Aunt Wanda, Uncle TJ, cousin Cameron, friend Ronald, Grandmother Doris, Granddad Carlton, sister Kenzie, cousin Kaylan, and I were all planning on staying one long week together. When I got out of the car, I immediately smelled the fresh air and smoke from someone having a barbeque nearby and could taste the fresh grass that had just been finely cut. The bright yellow sun was beaming down on us, making me sweat instantly. I looked around and saw the rows of houses next to each other and noticed that each one had its own personal swimming pool in the back. There were tall palm trees in each yard and every house had new and shiny cars in the driveway. Our house was two stories high and was made of bright red bricks that made it stand out from all of the other houses. The house was surrounded with light green grass and had a porch with dark blue chairs sitting in a row. It was definitely one of the biggest and prettiest houses I had ever seen

It was 1973. No just kidding. It is 2017 At my old house, there was a playground in my backyard. We made it all by our selves, from scratch. We had to leave it at the house because of two things, the buyers wanted it and it wouldn't fit in the moving truck. Also at my old house we had 3 rooms, and my mom and dad had to sleep in the garage. The house was a simple house. It has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen,and a garage, that doesn't open but it. Still works as a bedroom.

As humans, we associate the word isolation with negative feelings. And being told I was moving to a foreign island across the world that I had never previously heard of had me chalking up isolation negatively as well. The island is very small and doesn’t have all the resources that can be found here in America and you have to take a plane just to get to mainland Japan. My experiences with this isolation over four years altered Okinawa into what I now consider to be my home. My home is a secluded island that shaped me as a person by providing me with the tools and distance to educate different aspects of not only my life, but others as well.

I have lived in the same small house on Honey Creek road my entire life.The front yard is full of bright green grass, that stands just a little too tall. One ditch is on each side of the long black cement driveway. At the beginning of the driveway are two large, solid boulders. My front yard is large compared to the neighboring yards. It is where my siblings and I would play tag and other games during late summer nights and would build snowmen on cold winter evenings. The same yard that my brother has spent countless hours push mowing the too tall, bright green grass. Looking at the front view of my house, the siding is a light gray and covers the entirety of the one story house. There is a tall red brick chimney off to the right but is hardly ever caught breathing smoke. The roofing is a dark blue with black speckles and the front door is a matching blue painted on very thick. On the front door is a brown wreath hung by a burlap bow. The word family, in a bubbly font, is neatly centered in the middle of the wreath.

The grass, still soft and bright green in the late summer, rolls with grace. Its hue compliments the blue sky perfectly. Fluffy clouds string the distant horizon like the lace on the hem of my dress as the sky fades with a single stroke of a brush to deep blue. A night blue that is so deep and never ending that the ocean itself would be jealous. A soft breeze flutters between my dark amber hair as my pale blue dress skips around my knees. Another perfect day in this perfect life. Many live a life like mine…most, in fact. No problems, no troubles. We have lived this way, well...um...forever.

Home is the warm embrace offered to me by my mother as soon as I open the door. Home is the smell of freshly cooked food, the kind you can smell before you even open the door, and when you do open the door it just wafts out at you. Home is where the dogs jump up and down at the back door and bark vigorously until you open the door and then they attack you with kisses. Home is where your family all lives within twenty minutes of each other. Home is where we are most comfortable.

Up to this point in my life, I have lived in two homes, though the one I live in now is where I have primarily lived. I have so many vivid memories from these two places that I am constantly looking around remembering all of the good times I had. Moving into my current home was not only a decision to expand on our living space, but give both me and my sister a good place to live. Between the less than desirable neighbors and the small cramped environment, it was a necessary choice to move an I couldn’t be any happier for it.

I looked back at my house, the green peeling paint on the door, the ripped screen door, the huge window at the top of the house, from which you could see into my room, and I only had one thought, this is no longer my home.

It was 1973. No just kidding. It is 2017 I have just moved into a new house. At my old house, there was a playground in my backyard. We made it all by ourselves, from scratch. We had to leave it at the house because of two things, the buyers wanted it and it wouldn't fit in the moving truck. Also at my old house we had 3 rooms, and my mom and dad had to sleep in the garage. The house was a simple house. It has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen,and a garage, that doesn't open but it. Still works as a bedroom.

Linda Bennett once said “Our homes represent more than our financial assets; they have a deep and unique emotional meaning. Our earliest memories of home are often connected to our childhood.” To me home is where my family is, it’s where I was raised. No matter how far away you move from your home, it will always mean as much to you now as it did back then. Everyone’s home is the building block of the foundation of their future development as a person.

The best times to sit out on the porch is when it is raining outside because you can watch the dark sky full of clouds just pouring down and you can see the tree leaves dancing in the wind. When we have family reunions or even little parties, you would see the porch full with all the adults sitting gossiping and drinking their wines or beers. Not only is the porch an adult hangout spot but it’s the safe zone for the kids. The porch is my favorite place because no matter how old I got it always makes me feel welcome.

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 January 1991. This home will forever be my safety and my coziness.