My House

My House My house is the only home I’ve ever known because I’ve never moved anywhere. I was brought home from the hospital to this house, and it might not be perfect, but I love it. What makes my house my home is the fact that is where my family is, I feel safe and secure there, and it is uniquely my place in the whole wide world. It is a special place and a place of memories. My house is where every Christmas morning for eleven years I woke up at 3 am and woke up all of my family to go downstairs to open presents. My mom snaps pictures of us opening our presents and we’d open them by 4 am, and then we’d spend the morning playing with our presents until the turkey was ready. My house is a magnificent place, and it is mine. Something that makes my house my home is love and affection from the pets and the humans inside. My family is made up of my mom, Brady and Noah (my older brothers), and me. It’s the love and affection, not the structure that makes a house a home. I remember one day when my mom came home with three hamsters in a special box. We named then Brady Jr., Rocky, and Rainey. We welcomed them into our home and into our family. My home keeps getting bigger and filled with more love because of all the pets. We also have the rabbits, the dogs, and the cat. Even though Maybe, my dog, eats all the food off of the counters, Sunny, my chihuahua, refuses to be trained, and the bunnies are a lot of work, we still love them because family is family. You don’t stop loving family, even if they’re trouble or hard to love sometimes, we’ll love them anyways. Feeling that way makes our home stronger and more like there’s nothing that could break it down. We feel that way about the house, too. It’s not super huge like some people have, but it doesn’t matter. We love it anyways. Something else that makes this house a home is for safety and survival reasons. We have four walls and a roof, with heat and running water, and it protects us from the outside world. Basically, I am so scared of thunder and lightning, I want to cry anytime I see it and hear it. I get so scared by thunder and lightning, and I like to spend stormy nights safe in my house and especially cuddling with my mom. I don’t even like to step outside the door if it’s thundering and lightning outside. My big brothers will always protect me, too. They’re big and even though they can be mean sometimes, I know they will keep me safe. I have big protectors like my own guards. Outside of this house is possible dangers, but inside, we feel safe and secure. Something else that makes this house a home is the fact that it’s uniquely ours. From us putting up decorations to painting the walls the colours we like, and accidentally painting the ceiling, too. For example, I was painting the bathroom walls and got the colour on the white ceiling. So now there’s a streak of colour across my bathroom ceiling. But it’s my bathroom, and that’s okay. We also have photos on the walls. These are family photos and lots of our artworks framed. Once when I was three, I threw colourful ink all over this big board. I dragged it into the house and my mom though it was the greatest thing even though I put mud all over it, too. We had it professionally framed. It’s huge and takes up an entire wall in the living room (and the mud is still all over the bottom left of it!). This is our spot in the world. Other families wouldn’t appreciate my painting, for example, but we do. We’ve put our mark on this place and it’s all ours. In conclusion to this long essay, this is my home. It’s the way I like it. It’s safe and warm, it has my family, it’s just the way we like it, and I’m very happy here. My home is where every Wednesday night during a season of Survivor, the four of us eat pizza and cheer for our favourite survivor person, sitting beneath my framed ink painting feeling safe and warm. We don’t go out on vacations or do lots of stuff like that, but a staying home is kind of nice, too.