Home I lived on Varney Mill Road in a cedar-sided, three bedroom ranch. When I was 4 years old, we moved to 12 Calisa Lane, to a bright yellow house with a big driveway and yard for running and playing. This is the place I think of when I hear “home”. When we first moved, the new house felt huge because, one: in comparison with the ranch, it felt like a castle, and two: I was 3 feet tall. I remember the day we moved was the first day I had seen it. My brother and I raced up the stairs to the third floor, where we fought over who got the bigger bedroom. I remember standing at the top of the deck steps watching people bring in our new furniture.
I relate my summers, family and many memories to my house. I remember countless games of manhunt and hide-and-go-seek played in the backyard, times catching fireflies in the grass, quiet summer mornings reading in the porch swing, picking wild blackberries in the woods, and family campfires out back, looking at the stars and bats overhead. During the summer I'm in our pool so much my family even calls me a fish. During the winter my house is warm and cozy. My mom is always baking in the big kitchen, the smell of cookies and pies wafting through the whole house. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving are celebrated at my house. All my memories were created there. All my family and happiness is there. It's more than just a house. It's home.
Home
I lived on Varney Mill Road in a cedar-sided, three bedroom ranch. When I was 4 years old, we moved to 12 Calisa Lane, to a bright yellow house with a big driveway and yard for running and playing. This is the place I think of when I hear “home”. When we first moved, the new house felt huge because, one: in comparison with the ranch, it felt like a castle, and two: I was 3 feet tall. I remember the day we moved was the first day I had seen it. My brother and I raced up the stairs to the third floor, where we fought over who got the bigger bedroom. I remember standing at the top of the deck steps watching people bring in our new furniture.
I relate my summers, family and many memories to my house. I remember countless games of manhunt and hide-and-go-seek played in the backyard, times catching fireflies in the grass, quiet summer mornings reading in the porch swing, picking wild blackberries in the woods, and family campfires out back, looking at the stars and bats overhead. During the summer I'm in our pool so much my family even calls me a fish. During the winter my house is warm and cozy. My mom is always baking in the big kitchen, the smell of cookies and pies wafting through the whole house. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving are celebrated at my house. All my memories were created there. All my family and happiness is there. It's more than just a house. It's home.