Essay On A New 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.

The knocking stopped for like 20 minutes and they tried coming up with a plan on how to catch this thing. All of a sudden, they heard a loud, heavy slam on the ground, but it didn’t sound like one item but many items. Jenna started crying and asking to leave. Jack said no until he found out who it was. Jack felt like going outside and looking for clues. When he stepped out the door, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There was broken, bloody arms and legs lying on the ground that spelled “I Want You Back.” He screamed loudly and ran back inside. “What a nightmare,” said Jack.

My family and I moved in from LA. On the flight, we had gotten little tokens for all the kids to spend at a gift shop where we reached. As we reached I had used my token to buy a small doll to play with, little did I know that it was returned from a family whose daughter had just passed away? Nothing bothered me as much back then, so we decided to ignore it and move on to the new house.

     The process of building a house is a very complex and difficult task. In the following paragraphs, I will be explaining the many different steps that are required to build a house.

One place that I see every day but don’t put much attention to is my house. The house that I live in is near by a park and a gas station. My house is small and cozy is made of steel frames, the anterior part of the house has a beige and pink color that combine a beautiful shade. The inside of my house has many portraits of family members and drawings. I have a total of two bathrooms and four rooms a kitchen and two living rooms. We have a living room that’s used for grown-ups and the other one is used for the children. The kitchen table and chairs are made of wood, in the ceiling there is big chandelier. The walls of my house are painted in different colors that are green, beige and pink. I like that every room has its own different color, it’s not boring it brings life and shade.

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."

The house that I’ve grown up in is very unique, my parents built it by hand. With 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 on it at almost all times year, to baling hay during the summer months. There is always something going on at The Farm.

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.

Home, the place one spends more time in their life and share special moments with family. Where one expects to live permanently carefree, feel protected under the roof of their house. One day I want to have a home that makes me feel well and where I can be safe and happy. The purpose of this essay is to discuss and fine structural decisions I made about designing my dream house.

All five of us kids stand impatiently, surrounding the dirty, white side door attached to the garage of Grandma and Grandpa Pinegar’s home in Orem, Utah. An automatic lock is screwed to the door. We all take turns punching in the code into the lock. The buttons have an orange glow to them, but is only visible in the dark. Little black numbers were once printed on the circular buttons, but have now peeled away as a result of the constant rubbing and pressing on them. The door has always been a pain to get open. The lock constantly jams itself, which requires the code to be entered multiple times. As we sit and wait for Mom to open the door, I admire the familiar place. Grandma and Grandpa’s three story house is layered in red, rough bricks. Five white columns hold up a lengthy carpeted deck, as well as the extended roof. Windows can be seen in all stories of the house, giving the house a wide open feel. The neatly cut grass, planted in the front lawn, is parted by a sidewalk that leads up to a couple of stairs and then to a dark brown door. A flagpole is surrounded by a flower bed in the front lawn. Our handprints mark the cement where the flagpole stands. Finally, Mom gets the door unlocked, it groans - sounding like an old blowhorn - as rusty gears turn inside to unfasten. Sara, my younger sister, takes hold of the scratched up metal doorknob, twists it to the side, pushes the door open, and runs in. Leading the rest of us with her.

I stare at the girl in the mirror. Her long golden curls cascade down her face, perfectly framing her ice blue eyes. That’s what Katie always says. She tells me how much she loves that I look just like her, calling me her mini-me. I think Katie is much more beautiful than I will ever be. She tells me I’m crazy, that I am already prettier than she is. I think she says that to make me feel better.

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.

In today’s home-building market, the design choices you make as a homeowner should fit your household’s lifestyle and locale. Increasingly, those choices are becoming environmentally friendly, which is a good thing for our planet and wallets.

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.