Descriptive Essay About My House

Everyone has a “dream house”, they just rely on your opinions and beliefs. You can have a modern dream house, or maybe a vintage dream house. You can also either live in the woods, in the city, or even right by the beach! You can be by yourself, or you can have lots and lots of roommates. You can have lots of neighbors, or maybe even none at all! You could live off of a mountain, or maybe on a paved street.

My definition for home cannot be described by words 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 was, 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. I never realized that the place I lived was not my home, that home was in fact more than what the words in the dictionary say.

I sat there, with the dark, cold sand running through my fingers. My sisters running through the tall, sharp grass as if it weren’t even there. At the river bank, my parents were talking with a man who I had never seen before. Behind them, I could see the sun setting though the trees, the orange, pink and yellow colors reflecting off of the river. The massive maple, hickory and pine trees cast shadows onto the abandoned sandlot, the sandlot that would soon be purchased by my parents, and turned into my new home. The one story, three bedrooms, and one bath house we are living in would soon be packed away and brought to the new house. This house was just that, a house. I considered this house a place where I would eat, sleep, and do my homework at. I shared a room and a bed with my youngest sister, while my oldest and second youngest sister shared the other. My parents had a makeshift room with a small bed and a box TV in it. Six people in a one-story house is overwhelming, but my parents made the best of what we had. Even at night, when you could hear the neighbors next door yelling at each other, my mom would always make us keep our windows closed, until the morning. My family was more than ready for the move to our new home, but it wouldn’t be here for another year or so.

In the living room, the cuckoo clock said, "Ticktock, seven-thirty o'clock, time to get up, time to get up, seven-thirty o'clock!" As if the cuckoo clock is afraid, nobody, in the house would wake up. The living room is like a perfect, black and white, cover. I had always been afraid to sit, in the living room, in case I wrinkle the fabric or stain it. The couch is cream but inlaid with a fine green silk, and leaves embroidered so delicately that they might have landed there in spring and just sunk in, but I know they took hundreds of hours to sew. The black curtains are linen, the kind of black that is untouched by hands and devoid of dust. A cursory look to the right shows me the almost hidden cords that are used to open and close them. In the living room, there is no television, no dining table, only the chairs arranged around the bespoke fireplace which leaps with a gas flame. The photographs are black and white, not casual family pictures, but arranged to look like such by a professional, anyone of them wouldn't look out of place. The floor is a high polished wood, dark and free of either dust or clutter. I always felt like this was my home. "I belong here."

“Wow” My mom said glancing to the side of the road and behind a large grey building. “It seems so barren now.” she said shifting her eyes back onto the road, her hair fluffing up as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe they’re chopping down so many trees.” I heard sadness bubbling up in her voice as the traffic light turned green and my mom drove the car forward. I look back at the empty plot of land, a place that used to be packed with trees, trees that had been there for hundreds of years. I watch the desolate yard of stumps fade off behind us as we continue on home. The thoughts still roam around in my head. How many trees does it take before they stop? One more? Ten more? A hundred more? Or will the only reason to stop be the extinction of them as a whole?

My eyes opened slowly and unexpectedly. I yawned and stretched my body out across my mattress, arms out reaching high above my head, getting the joints warm and flexible. I sat up on the bed and looked around the near pitch black space that was my bedroom. My eyes have yet to adjust to the darkness, but I knew where everything was, all committed to memory. My room forms the shape of an L; The door leading into my room opens up to a space five feet wide and it opens up to the rest of my room in a square shape. In the right-hand corner of the room lies my bed against the wall, jet-black sheets covering the bed that I currently sit on with matching pillowcases and a white fleece blanket that wasn’t covering me at the moment, so it was probably on the floor. Next to my bed was my desk, very large and made of redwood, with three drawers on its right side and one under where the middle of the desk was. In the corner opposite of me on the left side of my room was my bookshelf, filled to the brim with all sorts of books, each one I had a very strong fondness for, and on top of it a globe and a random mess of papers, journals and writing utensils that I use for schoolwork. Directly right to the bookshelf was the small wooden nightstand that my 22-inch flat screen TV sat atop, several of my favorite DVDs and video game cases on it as well and on the floor beneath the stand was my Playstation 4 console and my 2 controllers

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.

The back door of the moving truck slammed shut, making me slightly jump gasping in surprise. I turned in my seat and look at the house, I've lived my whole life in. Gloomily I stare remembering all the happy and sad times I've had here.

A bang on my door interrupts my quiet slumber and jolts my body into a sitting position. I rub my blurry eyes and swing my legs over the side of my bed, trying to move forwards. My foot gets caught in the fluffy blanket and I tumble to the ground. “Gahh!” My head hits my side table when I bolt into a sitting position. My hand reaches up and rubs my head whilst my other hand balances my glasses on the bridge of my nose.

Listed on Airbnb, Jessica’s home in Queens New York is bright, spacious and simple. With 2 levels, the house has a fully stocked kitchen, 2 large bedrooms and 2 showers and toilets for you and your family.

My home, my home sweet home the place where I’m in peace and escape from the busy and crazy world. I moved into this house when I was about 6 or 7 and I have countless of wonderful memories that happened here but also some pretty crummy ones. My house isn't very big, but it isn't small it’s the perfect size for just me and my mom. The walls of my house are close to a vanilla color, but have become a bit dirty over the years and the ceiling of it has some water damage because of the few times it rains here. It’s also very noisy throughout the day and night because of the busy road right behind us. There are so many cars that go by every day and sometimes they wake me up at at the wee hours of the morning. It's usually a massive truck that comes down the road at the same time every night honking it’s horn that trembles and shakes the walls of our house. It’s also a lot of people acting up and speeding or racing down the road. What I really do love about my house is the view we get when you step into the backyard. There's a huge desert and then we have a perfect view of the mountain where the tram is at. I love going out there at night because it's very quiet at times and you can see all the stars and the lights of the city.

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.

Home is a place where the good and the bad memories happen. Home is where the comfortable side comes out. Only problem is how does home define a person’s character? My favorite place to visit is my grandmother’s and grandfather’s house in Alabama, because it reminds me of my childhood, shows me how far in life I have gotten, and provides a sense of comfort.

On a cold lonely winter night, Jessica's parents were putting her down as always. Jessica had already been depressed due to her best friend dieing in a car wreck a month ago. Jessica's parents had never been proud of her no matter what she had done. Jessica had finally had enough of being criticized, so she decided that tonight was the night that she is going to run away. 2 a.m came slowly and Jessica snuck out of her window with just a few things to help her survive, as well as her painting materials. She then went walking towards the Taiga forest. The Taiga forest was a cold, snowy forest that extends across from Europe, North America, and Asia. The Taiga has wet summers and long cold winters.

My dream house is a giant mansion in the HollyWood hills. The outside is covered in marble walls and complex designs. As you step step up to the golden gates of the property, you are instantly greeted with the sight of a giant 50 foot building laying in front of an enormous lake. As you approach the lake, you can see as the water moves gracefully with the warm Spring wind. Once you approach the edge of the lake, if you look to the right you will see a massive field of roses and many rare flowers. If turn around and walk away from the lake and move to the left of the building you will be greeted with the sight of a giant 60 foot 200-year-old palm tree with coconuts near its top.