My New Home - Original Writing

It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice

When we arrived at the house, I stood there for about five seconds before knocking on the door. They didn’t answer at first, so I knocked again, harder, and then saw the handle start to move. My stomach filled with butterflies as I watched the door slowly open. The face that greeted was one of a two year old, and as I looked up I saw her father standing over her.

Today, fifty-odd years later, I sit on my porch alone, swinging gently in the morning. I can look out over the yard. It looks just the same as the place were my most important moment of my life happened. I’ve kept it like that, so I never forgot. It's a large yard, that looks like a tiny meadow in a forest. It’s the height of summer right now, so all the trees are full and green. Just like it was then.

While we sat in our rambling tan and yellow cabin among the trees at 416 Spencer Falls Lane at Big Bear Lake, we watched the gloomy rain fall all morning long. Finally, the storm passed and the dark gray clouds passed over, the sun shone brightly on the wet grass. Yes, the day soon was as pleasant as any other august day, of course we knew it was frequently the case with a warm summer rain. This time, however, the rain had swelled the river washed away our small wooded bridge. Elaine my youngest sister sat beside the washed out bridge, she was so unhappy because it was loss. It was then that a shiny blue convertible drove up beside her, the four of us, our names are: William, Martina, Ella and David, watched as the car approached, it was around

Growing up in this city of Chicago was very nice. I lived on the Westside of Chicago, Hamlin and Augusta. Our community was not a community it was block. The block is the street that I lived one. My sisters and I was able to go to the park until the sunset. We would walk almost a mile just to have fun. We was able to walk everywhere, candy store, school, parties, and mall. All the houses on the blocks where kept up so nice. Every house had a flower bed. There were no boarded up houses. The grass was cut so well, and the brushes were trimmed nicely. You could smell the food that the neighbors were cooking. All the children on the block were able to play with each other. The neighbor would feed the other neighbors children. The trust for the people on Hamlin was very strong because everyone knew each other for years. The early 2000’s is a year that I will never forget. In 1973 my mom was born in Chicago. She lived in the same house that I lived in on Hamlin. As I was talking to my mother she was telling me that her life living in Chicago was lovely. Her dad

Tranquil gusts kissed my skin; the sweet sensation of a breeze and the rustle of the trees’ leaves sung me a lullaby. As I lie, back to my trampoline and limbs sprawled, my mind would undergo a sort of cleansing, ridding me of my troubles. My home held my childhood; it possessed memories that had accumulated from day one, intertwining and condensing them to forge a place that would bear peace and serenity. I never contemplated departure, even when it was apparent my parents sought for a better place to reside, for no place could replace my home. Alas, my assumptions were proven to be erroneous.

For a moment, I was transported back to my grandmother’s house in Small Town, Tennessee. I could smell the fresh Earth and hear all of the different livestock, fowl and outside dogs that guarded the animals, just as they did the house, from any predators. I recalled being a little girl dancing like no one watched, dreaming up inventions,

The temperature had risen to 95 degrees; in addition, to being extremely hot, sweat was now pouring from our beet red faces. We found our way to the oak tree where we sought out the shade and cool breeze it promised. The oak was sturdy and smelled of sweet, raw, earth. Each of us climbed the tree and claimed a branch of our own. It was a few moments later that my mother had approached the tree carrying lunch and bottles of cold water for all of us. As we sat in the tree eating our lunch and guzzling our water we talked amongst ourselves about school, movies and the thing to do in the neighborhood. We learned the neighbors had been the only children in the neighborhood for a long time and that one of their favorite things to do was to swim. The children explained that they had an in ground pool in their backyard. Once, they had let that secret out it was our mission to persuade our mother to allow us to go swimming. We devised a plan in the tree to have the neighbors asked on our behalf. We knew our mother couldn’t say no, if our new friends asked. The neighbors made their way down the tree and to our house while my siblings and I prayed in the

As soon as we set foot in that house I knew, we were going to raise our son there, this was going to be our home forever. The home was beautiful the outside was covered with white brick, there was a grand double door opening, there was even a grand foye, it was mansion. At first I was wondering why the price was so low but Lila told me to forget about it and that I did. We put in an offer on the house right away, we waited two long weeks before we found out that the owners had accepted our offers. We moved in two months before Lila’s due date. The first room

I couldn’t believe those moments were all gone. Everyone sat in silence, hours dragged on and on. My mother tapped me on the shoulder and I came out of my daze. It was time to go, so I slowly got up and followed my family out the doors of the building. I didn’t realize where we were going until I saw the brick house on the corner of the street looking a little oddly in the dumps. We all walked in and I again smelt the lavender scent and the peaceful way everything sat. My mother and father walked around the house in small, leisurely steps. I didn’t understand why we were all here until my dad came out of my grandmother’s room and walked towards me hesitantly. He leaned down and handed me a tiny, compacted book with tattered pink

I didn’t always live on Meadow Ridge Road. But I have always remembered living on it. From the time I was born to the time I was a year old, my parents and three brothers lived on a road in the city. I don’t know the house I had spent my first year in, but I know the one I’m in now. Back then, it was just an old white house, with a siding that was no longer produced. The front porch was small, barely enough room to stand on and only there so people could stand above the snow during winter. The kitchen floors were wooden, with my father making my brother Lucas and I clean the floors with a toothbrush as punishment. The living room floors always had some form of urine from our dog. But that was before I grew up, and changes were made.

Never in a million years did I think that I would be moving out of my house in Iowa Falls. Growing up my dream had always been to someday move back to Iowa Falls, and live in that house. That was until my mom and dad sat me down on the porch after one of my baseball games and broke the news that we’d be moving to Clear Lake after baseball season. I had had known for a couple months that there was a good chance that we were going to be moving. I sat there on the enclosed front porch looking out around the neighborhood thinking about all the great times that I’d had at that house.

The story of how the roots of one house allowed me to mature and blossom into the person that I am today all begins not too far from here. In a four bedroom, two bath house with Saltillo tile, a clear blue pool, old wooden swing in the back yard, and an olive tree that is the trademark of the house. The exterior of the house is painted a clean white paint with a beige trim and is the home of Mom mom and Pop pop. However, this story goes deeper than the description or who lived in the house, it is about what actually took place at 8615 N 45th Ave.

Home is the place one spends more time in their life and share special moments with family. Where one expects to live permanently carefree and 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 illustrate the decisions I made about designing my future dream house.

Up until recently it had been 7 years since I had been to visit my grandparents house, or as we call it the cabin. The cabin is so full of memories I could plan to sit down and talk about it for an hour and that hour would turn into a day and that day into a week. Every room and place in that house has it’s own stories and each story has it’s own meaning and lasting impact.