Descriptive Essay On My House

It was an unusual quiet evening at my favorite diner. I always loved meeting my beautiful wife here after a long day of work to get some of Chicago’s best coffee. Upon opening the front door, the welcoming smell of freshly ground coffee fills my nostrils as I take a deep breath, but at the same time, I lose my breath as I spot my stunning wife waiting for me. She was wearing a vibrant red dress, as she knows that it’s my favorite, while her hair shimmered in the light.

Everyone has a “dream house”, they just rely on your opinions and beliefs. You can have a modern dream house, or maybe a vintage dream house. You can also either live in the woods, in the city, or even right by the beach! You can be by yourself, or you can have lots and lots of roommates. You can have lots of neighbors, or maybe even none at all! You could live off of a mountain, or maybe on a paved street.

To get to my house I had to walk through waist high water. I was looking around and saw debris floating everywhere. I saw random people’s furniture, their cushions, and every random thing I could possibly imagine. When I was walking through the water, it was disgusting. The barnyards behind my neighborhood, sewage systems, and the blocked up pipes had all risen and was in the water. It was so disgusting! I couldn’t even see my shoes once I got to my calf.

The scenery is still very warming like a puppy that is held close to your chest. The old water tower remains standing protruding through the earth. Dust floats in the air, creating clouds, when we drive down the jerky road. I look around, nothing has changed from last time I was here, the grain bins still reflect the sun. Each corn stalk stood tall and firm making it difficult for me to see what mom and I always drive for. The pressure on the gas pedal increased giving the car a jolt of energy like a kid who has just three bags of candy. Then it came into view, with the tree swing still hanging in the backyard waiting for someone. I pulled into the carmel driveway shifting the car into park allowing it to rest and closed the door with a “clunk”. As I turned around the house stood silently still, I took a deep filling my lungs with the most amazing feeling.

Set on a ridge overlooking the beautiful Olympic mountains -you will truly love this unique home. A blend of Japanese and northwestern architecture gives the house a perfect feel for a relaxing yoga retreat or any vacation. With its traditional Tatami room and spectacular Japanese blue tile roof this spacious home will give you the sublime rest and rejuvenation that you deserve!

My definition for home cannot be described by words or by a simple thought, but home is rather of a feeling. Home is the calmness and serenity that settles over me like a blanket on a cold snowy night, just a silent assurance telling me I belong there. It took me quite a bit of time to understand where exactly that place was, and I didn’t know that the answer was always right in front of me. This feeling would come and go, and I would never recognize it because I knew that only the house I lived in was my home. I never realized that the place I lived was not my home, that home was in fact more than what the words in the dictionary say.

Home is the warm embrace offered to me by my mother as soon as I open the door. Home is the smell of freshly cooked food, the kind you can smell before you even open the door, and when you do open the door it just wafts out at you. Home is where the dogs jump up and down at the back door and bark vigorously until you open the door and then they attack you with kisses. Home is where your family all lives within twenty minutes of each other. Home is where we are most comfortable.

“Wow” My mom said glancing to the side of the road and behind a large grey building. “It seems so barren now.” she said shifting her eyes back onto the road, her hair fluffing up as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe they’re chopping down so many trees.” I heard sadness bubbling up in her voice as the traffic light turned green and my mom drove the car forward. I look back at the empty plot of land, a place that used to be packed with trees, trees that had been there for hundreds of years. I watch the desolate yard of stumps fade off behind us as we continue on home. The thoughts still roam around in my head. How many trees does it take before they stop? One more? Ten more? A hundred more? Or will the only reason to stop be the extinction of them as a whole?

When you step into my room, the first thing you will notice is the golden afternoon sunlight fluttering in and dancing around because of the large sycamore trees outside my window. The window is fairly large, as my house is a Cape Cod style home. The reason for the window being so large is that it is one of the primary dormer windows on the second floor that front the street. The window is also set in alcove that is approximately two feet deep, and is framed with white wooden shutters on both sides. I have always been a very optimistic and happy person, and this large window letting in the golden light of nature is a fantastic representation of my personality.

Up to this point in my life, I have lived in two homes, though the one I live in now is where I have primarily lived. I have so many vivid memories from these two places that I am constantly looking around remembering all of the good times I had. Moving into my current home was not only a decision to expand on our living space, but give both me and my sister a good place to live. Between the less than desirable neighbors and the small cramped environment, it was a necessary choice to move an I couldn’t be any happier for it.

My home, my home sweet home the place where I’m in peace and escape from the busy and crazy world. I moved into this house when I was about 6 or 7 and I have countless of wonderful memories that happened here but also some pretty crummy ones. My house isn't very big, but it isn't small it’s the perfect size for just me and my mom. The walls of my house are close to a vanilla color, but have become a bit dirty over the years and the ceiling of it has some water damage because of the few times it rains here. It’s also very noisy throughout the day and night because of the busy road right behind us. There are so many cars that go by every day and sometimes they wake me up at at the wee hours of the morning. It's usually a massive truck that comes down the road at the same time every night honking it’s horn that trembles and shakes the walls of our house. It’s also a lot of people acting up and speeding or racing down the road. What I really do love about my house is the view we get when you step into the backyard. There's a huge desert and then we have a perfect view of the mountain where the tram is at. I love going out there at night because it's very quiet at times and you can see all the stars and the lights of the city.

If I had the space I would write every detail about my new house, but then I will have no space to tell about my new neighbors, so I'll just give a small virtual tour…. so when I walk in I can see the stairs. When I go up them, there are four rooms. My mom and dad’s room, Christopher’s, mine, and Caleb and Cameron’s, they share a room. Back down the steps is the living room by the front window. The kitchen is connected to the living room. There is a back door. Then into the second living room. There is a door that goes into the laundry room that leads into the garage.

Linda Bennett once said “Our homes represent more than our financial assets; they have a deep and unique emotional meaning. Our earliest memories of home are often connected to our childhood.” To me home is where my family is, it’s where I was raised. No matter how far away you move from your home, it will always mean as much to you now as it did back then. Everyone’s home is the building block of the foundation of their future development as a person.

On a cold lonely winter night, Jessica's parents were putting her down as always. Jessica had already been depressed due to her best friend dieing in a car wreck a month ago. Jessica's parents had never been proud of her no matter what she had done. Jessica had finally had enough of being criticized, so she decided that tonight was the night that she is going to run away. 2 a.m came slowly and Jessica snuck out of her window with just a few things to help her survive, as well as her painting materials. She then went walking towards the Taiga forest. The Taiga forest was a cold, snowy forest that extends across from Europe, North America, and Asia. The Taiga has wet summers and long cold winters.

It was a dark brown house with red shutters. It was placed up on a hill so in the winter it was so difficult to pull the car in the garage. Inside, the walls were tan and mustard yellow. It was plain in the house but I didn’t expect much. It smelt like the over-done scentsy that I put in. It was called apple-butter and that’s exactly what the house smelt of. It was three stories and the basement was half finished. I painted the door a dark red and it made the whole house stick out. I remember it being so welcoming and now when I think about it, I get a cold shiver down my spine. There were holes in some of the walls from things being thrown. The front doors lock was splitting apart, the trim on the sides on the door was broken off. If those walls could talk I would go back in there for a day just to listen.