Here's my latest english paper. i thought anyone who knew me and knew the old house i lived in might like it. [and this gives me something to write about]
Home
The comfy house on the corner of Walnut Street was where I had lived for seven and a half years of my life. That house did not contain just furniture, but it also held memories. Every birthday party, every Christmas, every play date and family get-together had taken place in this house. As far back as my memories take me this house had been a part of my life. My eyes filled with tears as I took one last journey through the back yard. An array of emotions overflowed my head as I reminisced through my small, fenced-in magical world. I looked around at the swing set and remembered the numerous hours spent playing on those very swings. The old shed/playhouse made me smile through my tears and as I walked to the back of it, I saw the gravesite of my once-living rabbit, Snuggles. I said my goodbyes to all of my other memories on my play grounds and I walked over to a special spot in the yard. In this spot, there was a tree, it was called the “Raegan Tree” and it was planted when I was only a small baby. The tree started out as just a little stick and it was growing to be big and strong. As I looked at the plant and saw its growth over time, it reminded me of my own growth; the tree encouraged me to stand tall and firm just as it does and it actually gave me strength.
It saddened me to have to think about leaving this place. I had spent my whole life in this home, and I knew nothing other than the safety of Walnut Street. It’s where I learned to ride my bike with and without training wheels, and I remember sitting on the curb of this street in the mornings, waving to people as they drove by on their way to work. Every room and every corner of the inside of the house contained some type of thought or memory that I would hold in my heart forever. My room reminded me of the countless tea parties I had shared with neighbors, and the constant imagining always taking place in my play in this room. On the wall was a measure of how tall I had grown each year of my life. And being only 4 feet tall, I still loved watching how much I grew. I cried in knowing that within less than a few days that memory would be carelessly painted over by the people who were coming to fix the house up to be rented. Although I was young, I realized the value in my memories and how special they were to me. It wasn’t fair and it made no sense to me that I had to leave my home.
My parents told me that our new house would be bigger and have more room for the new baby that was soon to come. They said it would have a pool and an even a larger back yard, but I didn’t care. They took me to see the new house that had just been built and as soon as I got there, I went inside and looked around and saw nothing. It was just as I had expected. Empty. How could they make me live here? This was not a home, it was a house. It was only an empty space for us to keep our stuff in and to sleep in; it contained absolutely no memories and nothing that was of any interest to me. This sudden change that was taking place in my life felt like it was destroying me. Day by day our furniture and other things from the home on Walnut Street began occupying the empty house on Silver Lake Circle. We were completely moved into our new house within two weeks.
The first night in my new room was lonely, the feeling of emptiness haunted me in my sleep, and I felt so out of place. As I laid sleepless in bed, I thought about everything that was to come. The birth of a baby brother or sister is what I had always wanted, but with all the recent change, I was nervous about my new sibling. I hadn’t been coping well with the move from the other house and the thought of another major change began to scare me. About four months had passed and it was getting closer to the due date of the baby’s delivery. On the morning of April 3rd, 2000, I was going about a normal day of second grade when my grandmother arrived and picked me up early from school. I was smart for a second grader and I had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen, she then explained to me that my mother was going into labor. After nine long months of waiting, feelings of excitement, anticipation and nervousness rushed in all at once. It was the best feeling of my life and although I was still scared, I knew that this was going to be probably bigger and better than any other change that had ever taken place in my almost eight years of life.
Hours passed as I waited with my family in the waiting room of the hospital. I could hardly hold myself together and I can remember constantly repeating the question “When is mommy gonna have her?” I spent what seemed like hours in the gift shop trying to make time pass quicker, I picked out matching “I’m the Big Sis” and “I’m the Little Sis” t-shirts and I was able to get some candy and teddy bears for the new member of the family. (But because of the unfortunate lack of teeth in the baby, I was able to eat the candy) FINALLY, after three and a half hours, my baby sister was born. I sprinted through the halls to the room my mom was in and when I walked in, I caught sight of the cutest baby I had ever seen in my entire life. I was the first to hold her and I hardly allowed anyone else to take her from me. This little baby was MY sister, and this was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I have to admit that no other big sister could be prouder than I was that day.
Three days later, we were able to take baby Emma Katherine and my mom back to our house. Still, in the back of my mind I wished we could’ve taken her to our home on Walnut Street, and lived happily ever after there. But when we got to Silver Lake Circle, everything fell perfectly into place. My dad said to me, “Raegan, you are always going to remember this day, when we brought your little sister to our home.” As he said this I thought to myself, this really is going to be a memory I’m going to hold with me forever, and it was my first favorite memory of this new house, and I understood that this house could also be made into a home. All of a sudden, I began to think about the “Raegan Tree”, I wondered if it had grown as I felt I had grown over this short period of time. And sometimes today, when I pass the small house on the corner of Walnut Street, I keep an eye out for the tree; and indeed the “Raegan Tree” is there, and it is bigger than ever, it’s so big that the first time a few years ago when I saw it, I hardly recognized it. Today, I think back when my mom, dad, sister and I were together in our new home for the first time as a family, and I realize that home is not where the house is. No, home is where the heart is.
