I grew up in Hemet, California in a neighborhood filled with friends that I grew up with. I remembered a lot about my home that I grew up in mostly because I remember details better than most people. I may remember details, but I love looking back on memories I had with my family and friends. On a summer afternoon in my hometown of Hemet, California is like every other day in the summer where everyone is in their houses cooling off or in their pools. When standing in the middle of the street in front of my house I notice four trees in the front yard. Two of the four trees stand on the right side of the yard. An Elm tree twenty feet from the road the height of a two-story house with an unfinished project of a tree house up in the branches from years ago. And an apricot tree that is the height of a one-story building that is about 35 feet from the road with branches easy to climb up. On the left side of the yard I see two more trees; an old nectarine tree half the size of a one-story house about ten feet from the road, and a lemon tree about 30 feet from the road that is about the size of a one-story house. On the curb …show more content…
Also, the inside of the house felt cooler inside than outside once walking a few steps inside. When walking to the left along the hallway is a living room with a window to look out at the front yard, a multi-purpose pool table set and a couple of couches. I kept walking down the hallway until I reached the dining room; the long wooden table was empty except for the same oak chairs surrounding the table as if they were worshipping the table. The seven candle holder against the right side of the wall isn 't lit because the dining room had enough light from the sun shining through the sliding glass door that is past the main living room. From here I could hear my turtle tank and my fish tank filters splashing the water like kids in a
Inside the house there were “piles of Tupperware and glass dishes” (19). Outside there was a shed, garden, trees, and a river. There was an office. There were “brass numbers” hanging “on the front porch” (19).
Imagine your first home. The place where you lived right after you were born. Where you took
The house is similar to the mind in other ways. It houses inner demons and fears, which can be heard stalking its prey. It also contains a "basement"...
As a child, I moved around most of my childhood. From the violent city of Compton, California to the upper middle class of Los Angeles, California, Then later to Elk City, Oklahoma.
Growing up in the Rio Grande Valley you become aware of all the opportunities that the world has to offer in contrast to the ones occurring here. You hear about all that is going on in such places as New York and California, but it is a novelty to hear anything or anyone being discussed from the Rio Grande Valley, unless it relates to Mexico. Ever since I was a child I had big ambitions, wishing for nothing more than to become successful in this world. As I matured I also developed a more direct goal. A goal that will not only further enhance the Valley but also enhance the people contained within it. My goal is to one day return and influence the teens of future generations. Helping them become aware of the infinite possibilities that are
Growing up for me some would say it was rather difficult and in some ways I would agree. There have been a lot of rough times that I have been through. This has and will affect my life for the rest of my life. The leading up to adoption, adoption and after adoption are the reasons my life were difficult.
Growing up in Vacaville, nestled between the cities of San Francisco and Sacramento in Northern California you got to enjoy the beauty of the outdoors and the creatures that live within it. That mixed with a growing city, new stores and homes being built every year you got a bit of both country living and city life. From cows, and turkeys to deer and geese if you grew up in Vacaville seeing these were a regular occurence. I never did cow tip but I did get the pleasure of seeing a herd of cows break through a fence and block a main road setting traffic back for hours.
Growing up, my mother lived in a typical two-bedroom home, had a traditional family setting that included a mother, father, and younger sister in a small town. For those reading my story, it might be hard to imagine why a typical middle American family would move to a Commune in California. Let’s start at the beginning. Small town Boise, Idaho in 1953, a cold Sunday morning a church service was to begin at the Owyhee Plaza Hotel, in which like most Sundays, my mother (Barbara) and grandmother (Muriel) headed to church. At the time their church affiliation was with the Church of Religious Science, which they dearly loved. Sitting in hardback chairs and talking before the service, they noticed a visitor who had just walked in. It was out
Try to imagine being homeschooled near your entire life before high school, then moving from Los Angeles to Miami and starting as a freshman at one of the country’s largest high schools. With 4,500 students, 93% minority enrollment, as well as English being a second language what challenges do you think you would face? How would you approach something like this? Would you be a little scared? I wasn’t, I am a Military brat and I was eager to dive in head first on Expert Mode.
However, after seeing many tree stands, I couldn’t help myself from desiring one. I suggested to my husband, that we should buy a real, live tree this year. Although he agreed, we never got around to purchasing one. Immediately after the holidays, I noticed that many of these road side stands still had lots of beautiful green, trees left. I drove past for several weeks, on my way to the grocery store and slowly watched them wither away and die.
Out of all the places that have shaped me and impacted me, I feel that there is one that has impacted me greater than any of the others. This place is the first home that I ever lived in. This house is a meaningful place that has helped to shape my life and also helped to impact my life as it allowed me to learn about my heritage, shaped my views of technology and made me value the importance of family. The first home that I ever had was actually a two-bedroom apartment located on Belmont Avenue in Chicago.
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.
People walk by as if we trees don’t exist.They throw trash at us as if we’ve done something wrong.
As a child, my family and I would vacation in a rented summerhouse on the southern tip of Block Island. Vacation time in “The Block,” as we called the island, was my favorite time of year for many reasons. As a boy who grew up in the concrete jungle of New York City, there was nothing more exciting to me than having access to a grassy backyard to play in and explore. The backyard of the summerhouse was something everyone in my family enjoyed. I recall countless hours of playing outside with my parents, or watching them sit on the deck from a distance as I laid in the grass, which I did a majority of the time.
Fitchburg, Wisconsin. It was the place I grew up. It was where mom had her motel for the longest time. It was the place I thought I'd always stay and live. It was the place my brother was attacked. It was the place where I met them, where they taught me that monsters really exist.