Descriptive Essay About My New Home

The street I live on has a lot of houses on it, and mine just happens to be one of them. Each house has its own driveway each one unique in its own way. Most of them are paved driveways, but mine happens to be made from hard pack. I can picture the driveway when it was built, still in the same place and still being made of rocks.

We had left at sunrise, and arrived sometime in the afternoon. The sky was darkening and the scene was beautiful, you could hardly see through the dense forest as the new leaves swayed in the wind. Me and my family had decided to go to the river which was very close to the campsite. We were all alone.

When I was eight years old, I caught a big, long trout, and the feeling of victory made it memorable. Now, I fish every opportunity I have. Furthermore, the beauty of nature is refreshing. The scenery outside is breathtaking. While I was at Christopher Run Campground, located in Mineral Run, Virginia, I awoke to a beautiful, colorful sunrise. In awe, I learned to appreciate the magnificent landscape. I will cherish that enduring moment forever. Also, the peaceful noises of outdoor life are calming. A nearby stream of flowing water made the setting more serene. As I heard the birds chirping and the wind blowing from the sounds of nature, my stress level immediately declined. Lastly, the amount of fun I have is indescribable. Roasting marshmallows are the best part of a campfire. On a summer night in August 2014, my family and I sat by a bonfire devouring our heavenly marshmallows; it is one of the most unforgettable moments of my life. Gooey, chewy, and delicious, these sweet treats make my smile grow wider! Telling scary stories with family and friends is entertaining too. Exchanging spooky tales around a fire is not only a fantastic bonding experience but an amusing

It is December 26, 2011. The trees are bare; the grass is lifeless. The brutal winds send shivers down my spine. My family and I pack our suitcases in the car, and we begin the long journey up to Natchez. Everywhere I look, I see dead trees and brown grass. I listen to the wind, whistling past the car. The three hour drive seems like an eternity.

I finally make it to the old wooden deck that extends across the front of the cabin. I look at the old wood under my feet and wonder how it could possibly hold my weight. The rest of the deck however is beautiful. My uncles have recently replaced the old wood framing roof. They also repainted the four pillars holding it and the railing on the side a dark forest green. The entire cabin is covered in a light tan-brown color to keep a natural look. I walk to the middle where a group of three trees project out just inches away from the deck. This was my fortress of solitude for many years as a child. I look over the deck at the lake and woodland forest surrounding me. The aroma of the evergreens surrounds me, leaving my mind wonderfully peaceful.

After a short time of walking, I arrive to an opening surrounded by trees 4 stories tall. The sun has exploded in rays of bright light. The grass, as high as my ankles, scrap against my pants. This is where I will create a fire, filling the cove with the smell of burning wood and marshmallows. At this point in my journey I can be alone and at peace. With the roaring fire, the sound of the wood hissing and crackling, I can sit and relax. I can feel the soft scratches of grass on the back of my neck and look up to the extraordinary sky littered with

Sometimes letting go can be the best change in life. At first it may seem difficult, holding onto something that had so much time and effort invested into. However, if at the same time, its inhibiting from living a comfortable and productive life, then it may be necessary making an adjustment. In my case, my adjustment was leaving an apartment. At the age of eleven, my family; which included my mother, father, and two brothers, had moved into our last apartment. A home should feel comforting, warm, and safe. This apartment was definitely something I wouldn't be proud to call home.

When I first arrived at Indian Creek Campground, I didn’t notice the beauty of it right away. I was preoccupied with my stiff legs and pounding headache from the long car ride that had started at 4am that day. So, the lovely trees and mountain sides went unnoticed in the beginning. The

I looked out the window and saw the woods that we were going to be staying in for 3 days. The trees were so tall I could barely see the top. All the trees were covered with dark green leaves. The air smelled like, and I know this is going to sound obvious, but it smelled like wilderness. It was like sniffling a pile of leaves. It had just rained, so it was a little wet. We arrived at the campsite towards the middle of the day, so it was at peak temperature.

The next three miles were much as the first two had been, a walk through a colorful enclosed forest. At the three-mile point, a rough, wooden, weatherworn sign stated that the Over Mountain shelter lay close by, and seeing as dusk had rapidly set upon me, I decided to spend the night there. Down a small hill through an arch of trees, the Overmountain Shelter squatted in an open field. The trees abruptly ended on my left and a large hillside presented itself to the sky. The hill, a wind tunnel during a thunderstorm, seduced me with its lush green grass, but I did not so easily forsake the prospected security of the shelter. The shelter, an old, weathered, abandoned barn squatted regally in the meadow, as if ruling over the valley below it. As dusk deepened into night, I carried my sore but happy body inside where I cooked a wondrous meal of pasta then swiftly passed into unconscious bliss.

As I walk through the door, two tiny humans greet me shouting, “Aunt Lee Lee! Aunt Lee Lee!” A wave of relaxation and love over flows me from head to toe. The smell of pumpkin fills the autumn air. My sister comes waddling around the corner with a big belly carrying my third blessing, ah, I’m home.

My definition for home indescribable 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 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.

I live in the “middle of nowhere.” The neighbor-less neighborhood is where home is for half of the time as the other half I live in an ever-growing college city, Columbia. I have cultivated a special appreciation for each journey home through the winding Missouri back roads that bring me to the place where my soul rests, so matter how many times I make the drive. The roads may take me to my house, but my home exists far beyond its walls.

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.

My mother gazed in my eyes and said “be a good girl”. She then handed my luggage to the flight attendant on duty and watched as I walked away towards the plane in route to Jamaica, my home for the next year. The word adapting does not do justice to what I had to do while in Jamaica. It was more like culture shock transitioning. I transitioned from washing machines and the yellow school bus, to hand washing and walking to school. Attending school in Jamaica had the same acclimations as my transition at my new home. I quickly realized that everything from curriculum to lunch time was different from the States. One day during lunch break, a girl named Moy asked me my name and asked if she could sit with me to eat lunch. She was intrigued with