Descriptive Essay About My Home

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.

What is home to you? Is it a place? Is it a person? Take a moment and close your eyes to think of what home is. For most people it maybe a house, a person, family, or any special place that is bonded with a memory. Home to me is where I feel and know I am loved, which is in my home, with my family, and my girlfriend, Alexis.

A home means a multitude of things to a multitude of people. For some it is simple, four walls and a roof over one’s head, a constructed mass of wood, concrete, and glass. It is a structure to sustain life. For others, it’s more complex, more of a feeling in one’s heart than a tangible place of residence. For me, it is neither simple nor complex; it is a warm feeling of family and an abundance of love as well as a physical location overflowing with memories. No matter how far anyone strays from a house, if it was once their home, it always will be. Despite the fact that I no longer live in my grandparent’s home, each time I return there I am overcome with feelings home, family, and love. That home is warmth and happiness epitomized. It is one of the most significant parts of my childhood. Even if a house does not appear to be anything grand or beautiful, its beauty comes from the memories and love that made it a home.

My definition for home is indescribable by word or by a simple thought, but home is rather of a feeling. Home is the calmness and serenity that settles over me like a blanket on a cold,snowy night, just a silent assurance telling me I belong there. It took me quite a bit of time to understand where exactly that place is, and I didn’t know that the answer was always right in front of me. This feeling would come and go, and I would never recognize it because I knew that only the house I lived in was my home. Home is in fact more than what the words in the dictionary say.

“Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.” These words written by John Ed Pearce, a widely published columnist for the Courier-Journal shows that home is always a place that people are always drawn to. For kids, they always want to grow up, go to college, and have a life on their own. Not appreciating home until they finally leave. Home is a place that no matter how far one wanders off they are always welcomed back. It is where everyone’s life begins, whether their home is an actual house, or a specific place. It is something that will always be with someone their whole life. Home is not the physical dwelling of the place, compared to the feeling of being with loved ones.

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.

Home is something I didn’t even notice, or thought I’d miss, until I’d left for college. And then, I found myself longing for a home I hadn’t noticed was a home. Home feels warm, welcoming, like it should never be left. And yet, we have all left home. It used to be the middle roundtable with the four uncomfortable, a bit too large, chairs in the library. Between 11:10 and 11:40, everyday; home was lunch with my friends. Matt, on my right, and Clark on my left, scrambling to complete the homework due later that day. When I would nap, and my shoes would be stolen by Clark, only to wake up to find Matt had written quotes, not only onto the soles of them, but on my arms as well, in permanent marker. Home was the librarians fondly reprimanding Matt and me for eating in the library, yet still hating Clark for some inexplicable reason, or sneaking in without our school i.d.s, feeling so proud of ourselves when we didn’t have to sit outside. Aaron, relegated to the fourth, uneven chair, whenever he would occasionally visit, only for us to get into a long-standing argument over whether Gandalf or Dumbledore was more powerful, until Matt finally agreed with me, quoting the Silmarillion word for word. Which naturally progressed to quoting the movies at Aaron until he agreed, Clark confused and lost in the conversation. This inevitably led, to us lamenting about Clark not knowing any pop culture besides anime, then trying to boost his confidence, assuring he, out of any of us, wouldn’t

I grew up in a city called Thornton in the state of Colorado. The neighborhood i lived in is known as Skylake Ranch and it’s an up and coming prosperous suburbia. Two blocks behind my house was the wealthier neighborhood, and three blocks in front of my home was old run down houses. Our area had a strict HOA so we could only have specific things in front of our house also only a handful of colors we could paint our homes, yet on the other side of the street the HOA didn't control the area. It was unique seeing what the strict housing looked like side by side with the HOA free houses. The area surrounding my childhood home was a melting pot. Directly across the street we had neighbors from Ecuador while our next door neighbors legally immigrated from china. Education level differed from house to house just on my block alone. Everyone was first time home owners in these newly built houses we lived in. While the neighborhood had all its original tenets everyone would help each other with building fences, or with other tasks for the exterior of the homes. Regardless of where anyone originally came if there was a man in his garage all the dads would soon follow into the same garage and share drinks and talk for a few hours at a time. My neighborhood was split between blue collar, and white collar employees. It was also split between liberals, and conservatives. Though my child hood neighborhood was a melting pot with different ethnic, and political beliefs if I had

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.

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.

In life I have visited many places. Some I liked and some I didn’t. The place I grew up was never really a home, however, more of just a house. Some of my memories from the past, I am very fond of, they are the memories that I will remember and cherish for the rest of my life, however, the most recent past and the present have not been considered happy times. There are many memories I would like to forget. I’m glad that through everything I have finally found home.

When I first moved in there was a small crack in my wall, it wasn't so small that it was easily ignored but it wasn't particularly large. It was supposed to be filled in once I was fully settled into my new room. It never was. Every night I would stare into that crack in the wall, sometimes only for a few hours, sometimes until I could see the rays of sunshine filtering into my room through my window. Every night as I stared into my fractured wall I felt the minor gap in my wall stare back at me as I waited for sleep to encompass me. For almost five years, that crack in my wall was there as a reminder. Reminder for what? A reminder that sometimes there's only so much stress something can take before it begins to crack.

Now that i’m actually thinking about the entirety of my childhood, it seems kind of crazy that i’m at the point where i’m at now. I remember when I was about nine years old, I thought to myself, “It will feel like forever until I start driving.” It’s crazy to think now that I’m only less than a month away from getting my license. And it feels like only yesterday that I was nine years old. Time seems like it really does fly sometimes.

flower print shirts with black dress pants. She has hair that is as thick as a mop but yet still black and silky, with beautiful hazel brown eyes.

Like I have, if you haven’t already, you will be purchasing your first house. The budgets of what you can afford will vary, and not everyone is going able to afford their dream homes that we wish we could. Like I did some may have to find a home with potential and express their style to make it the way they want it, and create their “dream” home. Scrolling through Pinterest, labeling a board “future home” is what most girls do. While my “future home” may not be complete when buying it like I wanted it to, it is now mine. I have an open canvas to work with and endless ideas to help design everything I have ever wanted. Deciding what colors to go with for the walls, what textured carpet to but in the bedrooms, or what floors to