Descriptive Essay About My New House

Long Island, New York is my birthplace and my home. I’ve lived here my entire existence of 17 years and I am blessed. I grew up in a 4 bedroom home in a town by the name of Williston Park. My home is a two-story colonial with a large front and back yard. The lush green grass and the variety of plants in the front yard make it aesthetically pleasing. The white siding of the home make it really hard to keep clean. The four windows in the front of the home make it look as if the house is smiling when you go towards it. Most of the homes in my neighborhood are similar in size and basic structure. Many of these homes are occupied by older white couples. Although my town isn't as diverse as the neighboring towns I love my neighborhood. Some of my favorite things to do are having casual conversations with my older neighbor John; going to the many baseball or football fields to play with my friends; go to Roosevelt Field Mall, or go to one of the many restaurants we have, or finally go to a place called Bounce, which is an indoor trampoline park. One of the greatest parts about my neighborhood is the sense of community and how we are able to set our differences aside when people we care about are in need. Growing up on Long Island we don't have as much access to public transportation compared to NYC, so I usually asked my parents for rides or was stuck walking miles to my friend’s house, or wherever else I went. Once I reached the age I really had no choice other than to get my

“It’s not fair,” I huffed, “I don’t want to leave! This is my home!” My mother’s brown eyes stared back at me, filled with a knowledge and understanding I had yet to possess and would lack for years to come. She left the barren living room, leaving behind a trace of the fruity perfume she always wore. It was futile to argue; the boxes were packed and ready to be loaded onto the trucks in a few hours. Having nowhere else to sit, I descended to the floor. The light oak wooden floorboards that used to be clothed in rugs were now naked. In the next month, new pairs of feet would walk on these boards.

When we arrived at the new house, it felt different as well. The exterior of the house looked more modern, and the smell of the flowers surrounding it was delightful. It didn’t look as old as the house I lived in before.

It was a welcomed change. We lived in “Canterbury Woods”, a neighborhood where all the houses looked nearly identical and no one -- excluding the kids --

He pushed open the mahogany door, taking a few steps into the house. The foyer greeted him with the residual scent of paint and dust. The cheap beige carpet cushioned his feet as he walked into the bare living room. His signature was scribbled on the bottom of the deed, but the house lacked any indication of his ownership. The floor had the same ugly carpet and dull off-white walls as when he’d come to the open house. He imagined the boxes at his parent’s unpacked, his photos hanging on the pale walls, his furniture decorating each

The single drive and one story house was home for a family of 4. Teaching school and driving buses got them the house on a street filled with strangers who would soon become life long friends. Marriage and college took the children dear to their hearts to new streets where life would mature them. Bumpy roads and misfortune would bring this 4 person home back together, but this time adding two more little ones for memories to be had. Years of growing older and moving through grade school would turn a short time visit into a long one. Friends and family coming and going, that door never once came unhinged. A house as busy as that one could never break because of the love shared in it. Home improvements along

My mother sent me out of our new house to “get some fresh air”, but I knew I was just in the way of settling into our new home. I snorted. Home. As if. Call me pessimistic, but this place was just going to be another pit stop before Dad’s job required him to pack us up again.

Time moved quickly; the seasons changed, while magic filled the air. Neighbor helping neighbor, giving all that they had to share. Floods in the sandbox and swimming pools, riding on our bikes.

It was a cool November morning when I arrived at my new home. The wind was blowing the birds were chirping and the trees were dancing in the cool autumn breeze. Many things have happened to and in this house and this is an account of these events.

As we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, I couldn’t help but feel a comforting warmth enter my body, even through all of the silence in the car. I was finally going to be home with my family, the place we belonged. It was small and it was not the most attractive of houses, but it was cozy and it had been mine.

Deliberately, I stepped my way up the stairway to the entrance. There was no door, only a vast hole where someone had once stood. I carefully placed my fingers on the door frame when I felt a tingling

I eyed the gigantic residence in front of me as I walked up to it. This is where they lived. There was a fountain on their front lawn, encircled by some beautiful shrubbery and some fancy landscaping all around. I think I saw a large luxury pool in the back. The light breeze blew on my skin softly. I hoped this would be

I nodded and collected my bags before heading to the direction I hoped my dorm was. It was about ten minutes later when I realized I was lost. Great. My arms were tired, I was hungry, and I wanted to sleep.

My house contains many memories of my childhood is where I grew up, I know every part of it and its secrets locations. When I was a child I used to hide in the attic, nobody would found me because no one knew where it was. Every time I enter my house I get a feeling of welcoming and comfort, leaving the house would make me sad. I celebrated many things like birthdays, baptisms and graduations, it means everything to me. It’s a huge piece that gives me safety and protects me from the rain, sun and winter. My house also has protected me from the outside world and violence. I don’t think I would ever want to move out, the walls have many scars from crayons and holes. The floor needs remodeling but

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.