My Second Home Essay

I sit alone in the dark, listening to cicadas and feeling a slight breeze creep across my arm, just enough to make the hairs perk up. Sitting in the hanging chairs on the dock at eleven o’clock at night, just allows for my body to calm and relax before I go to sleep. It is pure serene and tranquil. I observe how the blue lights on each dock are lit and move with the roll of a passing boat’s waves. My lips taste the crisp, humid, muggy, late July air. My eyes move from one end of the dock to the other. Waiting for any

Between 1910-1970 up to 100,000 aboriginal children were taken forcibly from their homes and families, by police or welfare officers. These children were known as the ‘stolen generation’. The novel Home, by Larissa Behrendt puts a human face on the stolen generation by illustrating the acts perpetrated against them. In the novel home, this is delivered through the story of Garibooli and her family.

A few miles northeast of Bath ME, down the stretch of route 1, to the right, you come to a dusty road covered in rocks and leaves. The rocky dirt road comes to a stop were a small, rough path takes you through the peach colored brush to a hot sandy beach. The beach glimmers in the sunshine turning the grainy sand into a golden blanket. The beach winds around westward clifts for four miles. Towards the east, segmented by a river emptying its contents, the beach gradually plunges down into the chilly Atlantic ocean, where rushing water from the river clashes with the salt water. The waves roll and crash on in like the sound of African drums, on rhythm that never stops. On the horizon where the water meets with the sky an island sits with a lighthouse perched on the land looking out for dangers that lurk. The sky continues on to the animated clouds, carrying one's eyes up to the heavens.

At 1,358,805 words Homestuck is within the top 5 longest written works in the English language. The webcomic first began on the 13th of April 2009 as a choose-your-own-adventure style comic, written by Andrew Hussie. When the comic ended on the 13th of April 2016, it was massively multimedia, with hours of flash animation, thousands of panels, and multiple minigames.

Arriving in the overgrown drive way trees start to crowd your vision, in the middle of all the trees I see an old beach house; that has stayed the same over the 18 years I have been going up there. Grandma is waiting outside on the front porch we all run up to give her a hug, then we go and start unpacking for a week’s worth of relaxing. First thing we do when were done unpacking is go to the old but new play structure. We sit on the swings and look out towards the big blue Michigan Lake. White caps cover most of the water along with passing boats, and some kayakers. Right over the horizon I can see the lights from the town, reaching into the sky. The sun is starting to set; the sky is painted with pink, orange, and yellow.

There is no other place I feel more at ease than at Kiawah Island. I have been going to this summer getaway every since I was a baby, and my love for this little island off the coast of South Carolina will never fade. When we roll up the driveway of 90 Jackstay Court, I feel a surge of elation, as I know I will be spending the next week with my family, cousins, and grandparents. I run my hands across the granite countertops where I can already smell the intoxicating aromas of a home cooked meal. First thing in the morning, my cousin and I grab our sand battered bikes, and start pedalling on the boardwalk to the beach. I’m careful on the narrow wooden platform, with the painful reminder of when I fell off into the brush. We hop off our bikes

The aroma of the salty ocean breeze dances around me. The ocean splashes onto the million small grains of sand while tickling the feet of the diverse people who travel among it. Music of the waves sing in perfect unison with sound of the natives playing their drums, their beautiful harmonies fill the resort while they wait for generous people with anything to spare. I look around and embrace every small detail, like the small sand crabs that scurry across my newly pedicured toes and the shattered shells that gouge into the bottoms of my feet. I find my way to the brightly colored hammocks filled with people reading the magazines filled with all the fake information about Justin Bieber and his new girlfriend, or the perfectly picked novel just

I lethargically began to move the oars across the glass of waters of Coleman Lake. The 12ft emerald row boat glides on top of the surface making its way to the opposite side of the lake. I continue rowing observing the breath taking views of this pristine lake, I swivel my head around and focus on these rustic cabins that are scattered around the lake, holding decades of memories with them as they start to sag towards me. I prop my oars up and reach around for the

Once we are unpacked in our cozy condo, we can’t wait to go sit on the beach. We have to go down the elevator because we are on the third floor. The door from the elevator leads us out to a chlorinated pool and a hot tub area. As we hurriedly walk onto the tan sandy beach, the small, smooth sand flows through my toes. I sniff the warm air which smells like salt from the sea. The water has an ombre color starting from sky blue to navy blue.

The home front during World War I covers the domestic, economic, social and political histories of countries involved in that conflict. It covers the mobilization of armed forces and war supplies, but does not include the military history. For the nonmilitary interactions among the major players see Diplomatic history of World War I.

The word ‘home’ is something that is often misunderstood. Home makes up your identity and not many people know that. Therefore you ask me, ‘what is home?’ Home is not just in your house. Home is a place that surrounds you. It’s you environment and cause for emotions. Your home is where you are with the people that surround you (peers, family, and strangers), as well as cars, houses, stores, and/or toys.

The ocean strokes land with calm and reassuring hands, lacing water with sand and lifting seashells in its wake. My heart urges me forward, to walk among the peace, to capture the sweet smell of sea salt. My brain reasons with the rest of my body. Turning sharply from the churning water I force my feet to leave the warm imprint they have grown to love

In a matter of fact, home is a noun that is defined in the -Collins

“The House I Live In,” a movie that explains the war on drugs from multiple perspectives from addict to enforcement and lawmaker between.

When one thinks about their “home”, they get a comfortable feeling, happiness, tranquility, etc. Now, the feeling that I get when I’m at home is stress, an unknown place, sadness in which causes me to want to escape and live in a fantasy world in my mind. My house isn’t a home to be in or live in at all due to the sour relationship my stepfather has towards me, the confinement and misery, and finally the treatment I receive at home. First, my stepfather and I have a sour relationship due to his fault because he treats me like trash and always talk bad things about me behind my back to my mother or siblings. However, when my mother is home he does not say a word or treat me like dirt but recently my mother has noticed that all he does is talk about me and how I’m no good and he tries to persuade my siblings to hate me. But let’s get one thing straight, even if my siblings resent me which they don’t but if they did, they would know the whole truth about their father and who he really is, for he is the devil. I’m not as a simile, I’m saying it because it is the truth. My stepfather might look like an angel and a person who would seem like they could not hurt a fly but, if he has the chance he will do it behind your back. He made me feel like I lived in hell, in a confinement and misery for he didn’t allow me to text, have friends or even hang out with them. Lastly, he said I couldn’t have a boyfriend and the time he figured I was talking to a guy he went all crazy and