All my life I had shared a bedroom with my oldest sister Tasia. I had to share a bedroom with my sister, because we lived with my grandmother. A few years later my brother move from Long Island, New York to Hope Mills, NC. By then, my sister and I had to share a room, so my brother was able to have his own room. After ten long years later and in middle school, and I was still in the same room with my oldest sister. I was in need of my own room I was always complaining to my grandmother about how Fifteen years old girl should have their own bedroom. Finally, my mother move down to Fayetteville, NC from Long Island, New York so my brother moved out with my mother, and I finally got my own room. This seemed like one of the greatest days of my life. The smell of my room makes me think of the spring time when all of the flowers are blooming. Lay down and close my eyes and daydream about places I'd like to see or think about things that make me happy. My room is my sanctuary.
When I think of my childhood bedroom as my special place because, it describes so many aspects of my life. When I...
Imagine your first home. The place where you lived right after you were born. Where you took
My impulse is to enter upon memories that cause some pain in my being. If I had the choice, I would wipe these memories clear away, so as to never have occasion to recall them again. But, through force of will and some effort, I have decided upon a place that can perhaps qualify as a favorite. Like the North Star, it shines a bit brighter than the stars that surround it; but alas, it is still a star. And so, onto my favorite childhood place.
For many years I would pass by the house and long to stop and look at it. One day I realized that the house was just that, a house. While it served as a physical reminder of my childhood, the actual memories and experiences I had growing up there were what mattered, and they would stay with me forever.
Inside the nicely decorated room with taupe walls just the perfect hint of beige, lie colorful accessories with incredible stories waiting to be told. A spotless, uninteresting window hangs at the end of the room. Like a silent watchman observing all the mysterious characteristics of the area. The sheer white curtains cascade silently in the dim lethargic room. In the presence of this commotion, a sleepy, dormant, charming room sits waiting to be discovered. Just beyond the slightly pollen and dust laden screens, the sun struggles to peak around the edges of the darkness to cast a bright, enthusiastic beam of light into the world that lies beyond the spotless double panes of glass. Daylight casts a dazzling light on the various trees and flowers in the woods. The leaves of fall, showcasing colors of orange, red, and mustard radiate from the gold inviting sunshine on a cool fall day. A wonderful world comes to life outside the porthole. Colossal colors littered with, abundant number of birds preparing themselves for the long awaited venture south, and an old toad in search of the perfect log to fall asleep in for the winter.
It was my dream to always own my own home. My wife and I set out to purchase a house on our own. In our process of trying to be first-time homeowners, we looked at so many houses until we were about ready to say maybe now is not the time. One day we were out driving not really looking and stumbled upon a house which we thought would be our home. We got the information we needed and made the call to see the house. The house was a newly built house with all the amenities my wife wanted. Not knowing the ends and the outs of purchasing a house, we thought that it could not be that hard. We went all in for this house, our house. The builder/realtor was not willing to negotiate the asking price of the house. We were even expected to pay closing cost. The contract included a lot of costs which we also found out were non-negotiable. Had we been represented by a agent, things may have gone a little differently. We were then told that there was another contract on the house and it would be taken. We lost the house we considered or thought would be our home.
The last thing was when we were all in the garden and this was describing my childhood.
Standing a mere three feet tall at most, it guards the door of my bedroom as a silent sentry. Its dual levels have been incessantly reordered to house each item in an aesthetic and efficient manner. The faded brown of the wood highlights the array of bright covers that lay at the front, patiently waiting to be withdrawn and analyzed once more. This humble bookcase is the crowning jewel of my personal space. The walls are lined with a diverse selection of truly enthralling books, all penned by arguably the most astute minds of all time. The knowledge of centuries lies at my finger tips, breathlessly hungering for me to turn the pages and absorb its riches.
My bed is the one thing in my house that I control. I control everything that happens on my bed and who touches it and who 's allowed to sit on it. I control everything that happens with my bed and nobody has crossed that. Out of everything in this house this is the one thing I call mine and I can control in any way I want. My grandmother said she would leave her bed to her favorite granddaughter and she wanted me to take care of it and that I will do. I never let my bed be dirty. I make sure my bed is clean and would be something my grandmother would be proud of. My bed is the only thing that makes me a control
My dream place would be a house on a Galapagos Island. My land will be located on the Isabella Island. It will be nice and relaxing because it has a constant weather all that time, perfect environment. Also I will have a nice 2 floor cabin. The cabins will look like the ones that you see in forest. My whole family will live there after I am 75. But before that I will spend my time gathering all the money to buy a piece of land, a plane, a boat, and some vegetable seed (lot of them). I want my dream place to be nice and relaxing where you can enjoy the environment and very peaceful weather.
I think we all have a beautiful place in our mind. I have a wonderful place that made me happy a lot of times, years ago. But sometimes I think that I am the only person who likes this place and I'm asking myself if this place will be as beautiful as I thought when I will go back to visit it again. Perhaps I made it beautiful in my mind.
When I think back to the days when I was a child, I think about all of my wonderful childhood memories. Often I wish to go back, back to that point in life when everything seemed simpler. Sometimes I think about it too much, knowing I cannot return. Yet there is still one place I can count on to take me back to that state of mind, my grandparent’s house and the land I love so much.
The place where I feel the most comfortable, and show my personality, is my bedroom. This is the place where I can really be myself and do what I want; it’s the place I come home to, and wake up every day. My room makes me feel comfortable because it is my own space. My house is always crazy, with my dog barking, and my siblings running around making noise, my room is the only place in the house where I can come and relax without caring about everything else, the only place that I can go to clear my mind.
Everyone has their own, personal place to have alone time and clear their heads. For me, that place is my bedroom in my apartment. My room is the one place where I feel most nostalgic and comfortable; its’ a comfort that can’t be replaced. My bedroom is my favorite room in my apartment because I always have my privacy there, and I feel like it shows my personal style, which I love.
My house is quite large. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, two living rooms, a dining room, a special games room and a big front and back garden.
grandmother’s house because it made me feel safe and warm. There was a smell of