“When you finally go back to your old home, you find that it wasn’t the old home that you missed but your childhood.” – Sam Ewing
When I was a freshman in high school I was asked to write a descriptive essay about anything that I wanted to. I decided to write about my grandparents house. I did not live at their house but I did grow up there.
The House that Built Me
The road that leads to my grandparents house is a long and curvy pea-stoned road. Once you open the car door you get whisked away by the scent of the lake. The sound of gravel rattling underneath your feet with every step you take to get to the front porch. The sound of the old squeaky metal bench swing, and the wind-chimes being blown in the wind. The metal door handle is cold at first, and the sound of the un-oiled door hinges squeak every time you open the door.
Once you enter the front door of my grandparent`s house, the first room that you walk into is their kitchen/dinning room. The sound of the warn down squeaky floor boards underneath the old warn down linoleum floor; welcomes you as you enter the house. The scent of the many meals that have been made with love and care. The sound of the coffee pot garbling every time my grandparent`s have their morning cup of coffee. And their “filled up” bulletin board full of pictures of their friends and grandchildren.
My grandparents living room is welcoming with a tan carpet. The old grandfather clock, that doesn’t tick, because it needs to be worked on; adds character to the room. The big couch against the window makes the room feel cozy. The sound of the old, unbalanced ceiling fan adds a nice breeze to the room.
Once you enter the hallway, the room on the right is their spare bedroom. The four windows in the room are covered with dark blue curtains that let you sleep-in on the mornings that the sun rises and reflects off the lake onto the bedroom windows. The paneled walls resemble wood. The bed is the newest bed in the house, whenever you lay on the bed it feels like you are floating on a cloud (metaphorically speaking).
The room on the left side of the hallway is the room that the grandchildren use when they come to visit. The hardwood floor is cold on your bare-feet at first. The walls which were painted pink by my grandmother and my cousin adds calmness to the room. I used to run into this room when little while it stormed because there are no windows in the room. Which calmed me down because I couldn’t see the lightning.
The room at the end of the hallway is the recreation room. In the middle of the room is a old pool table, and just by looking at it you can tell that hundreds of games have been played on it. The old bay windows give you a great view of the lake, and during the day the sunlight provides a source of light for the room. The whistling of the wind form the lake being blown against the house is calming at times. The knotty pine wood on the ceilings and walls add character to the room.
In the recreation room there is a hidden door that leads to the basement. The squeaky warn down steps welcome you as you go down them. Your sense of smell is taking over by the scent of mildew, dirt, and old wood. The walls of the basement were painted light blue by my grandmother and my cousins, the also finger painted. Then there is the dark door way that leads to the original basement. The floor is dirt and it goes all the way to the other end of the house, we don’t use that side of the basement for anything.
At the other end of the recreation room is my grandparent`s bedroom. Their bedroom is the biggest bedroom in the house. Whenever it storms for some odd reason you can`t hear the thunder at all. When I was little I always though that it was cool to go into my grandparent`s bedroom and look at their ceiling which is covered in glow in the dark stars. The hardwood floors are cold on your bare-feet as well.
The door to the backyard is just a few steps away from my grandparent`s bedroom. Once you step out of the door you are whisked away by the scent of lake air. The porch has a comforting feeling to it. When you walk to the dock you go past two pine trees, which you can tell that a branch falls off every time there is a big wind storm. You have to watch the ground with every step that you take to get to the dock because of goose poop. Once you go past the big willow tree that my grandmother takes pride in you are on the dock. The dock is a calming place for me. Now we know what the saying of “I saved the best for last” means.
Goal 2: Think about the house that built you.