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.
Set on a ridge overlooking the beautiful Olympic mountains -you will truly love this unique home. A blend of Japanese and northwestern architecture gives the house a perfect feel for a relaxing yoga retreat or any vacation. With its traditional Tatami room and spectacular Japanese blue tile roof this spacious home will give you the sublime rest and rejuvenation that you deserve!
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
The house that I’ve grew up in is very unique, my parents built it by hand, no help from anyone besides some family and friends. My dad and his ex wife started building it before they got divorced, and there was only 2 floors because then it was only a home for a family of 4. When my mom and dad got married they had to build more onto it because the family of 4 turned into a family of 6. Plus both of my parents would help anyone that needed it, and so they became foster parents. All my siblings and their children call where I live “The Farm” because our house sits on around 450 acres land, that have anywhere from horse and cows grazing in it at almost all times to baling hay during the summer months. There is always something going on at The Farm.
The Living Room in the back of my house has taught me to laugh at myself, to appreciate all that I have, and that while places may look different throughout time we are the ones who decide if that place holds a meaning to us despite its changes. My living room is a chapter of how my home in dry, flat, and hot Texas has affected who I am today and how I tell my story. The neighborhood I live in has this certain atmosphere, that once you turn on to our old grave like roads, you feel safe and at home. At the entrance you are welcomed by a park that reminds me of Sunday afternoons and sticky ice cream hands. My house sits in the middle of the neighborhood where at one end you’ve found yourself near the park and the other end you find yourself in the edge of a busy road surrounded by corner stores and our local grocery store. My box like house seemed as though parties were always occurring, but without the cars lined up and down the street, everyone around us quickly figured out that almost the entire Mondragon family had moved into the same neighborhood.
I come to this place every year. The beaches of beige sand and the feeling is cold and soft underneath my feet, I instantly feel so at home. The sun is shining and the water is sparkling like glitter in the distance. I turn around to see a brown shingle house with lots of windows staring back at me. I can hear the voices of my family as they gather on the balcony overlooking the beach. There are three families, twenty people all taking a moment on the patio to relish in the fact that the week we all have waited for is here. Despite the yearlong work it takes to put together this vacation, it is a great joy when everyone is together having fun. The beach house becomes a home away from home, full of energy, good food, games, and celebration.
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.
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.
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.
A new friend of mine from Central America struggled when I asked him about his hometown. His expression first told of a welling of formative personal memories accompanied by a knowing smile on his face. With no words yet arriving and seconds ticking by, his face shifted with frustration at feeling mute, as if it were an impossibly monumental task to convey the essence, as he deeply felt, of his hometown-- the place of his birth and nurturing and land where still his parents and one grandparent dwell. Finally, in a linguistic dam burst, words gushed out in a geyser of information-- his eyes lit up, and his hands came alive as he related his meaningful images and a sense of the rhythm of life there. It emerged in random spasms of phrases about the morning chaos at busy food markets filled with shoppers, the lake with its neon green and red birds, and his favorite place-- a quiet hill top overlooking fields of sugar cane where shirtless workers gathered the harvest. Then it was my turn to explain to him my hometown. I hardly knew where to begin. It, too, seemed an impossible task, and I am certain I blurted out in my own randomness various images that had made their mark on my memory. However, I knew that I had failed to relate any coherent statements. Later, I reflected on how to prepare myself better for the next time someone asked me about my hometown. I decided to pick out three characteristics I could focus on in order to bring coherence to my hypothetical future listener on the topic of the place I come from. Having thought it through more, I have confidence now regarding what to say. Jacumba Hot Springs, a small town in California, can be defined in terms of its unique topography, its people, and its mineral water.To begin, Jacumba Hot Springs has some unique geographical features. For example, huge boulders of an infinite variety of shapes are scattered across the land. I remember as a child climbing up the side of one particularly large ten-footer on my grandfather’s half acre. At the top of it was a flattened area which formed a natural seat from which he and I would sometime catch the rising moon on a beautiful summer evening. Besides the boulders, the view of the
My hometown is known for being an old classic German immigrant community. The towns name is Columbia, Illinois which is located about 10 miles south of Saint Louis in the southwest region of Illinois. All my life I have lived in Columbia attending school there and always going to town events. Although Columbia isn’t filled with many national historical events or structures, it has a rich local history and important local historical sites. As a kid I visited many of these locations on school field trips. I love my hometown due to its small size that offers a sense of community and togetherness.
As I am walking home from school I take the time to look around my surroundings. Leaves a variety of reds, oranges and yellows descend from the trees and encase the ground like a blanket. The wind begins to pick up, building miniature vortexes with the leaves and dropping them off to their new locations. There is not much to Stowe, Vermont: a couple of convenience stores, a few diners scattered, parks and widely spaces houses that stretch down for a few miles. Extravagant would not be the leading word to describe this town, but I love it nonetheless.
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.
I lived in a house on Veteran’s Boulevard for the first two years of my life. It was there that I learned to walk and talk. Living in the house was entirely uneventful.