My House, Where My Story Begins | The Odyssey Online
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My House, Where My Story Begins

The house that built me.

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My House, Where My Story Begins
Kaysee Faecher

The definition of a house is “a building for human habitation, especially one that is lived in by a family or small group of people.” A house is a building, but a home is a completely different concept. A home is filled with memories and people who love you. A home has a sense of comfort. As you walk into your home you feel this presence overcome you. A sense of safety and the remembrance of many memories.

The little yellow house at the end of the cul-de-sac was and still is my home. Neighbors who are like family surround me from both sides of my family. My house has been a part of my life since I was born. My mom also grew up in that house, making it all the more special. I sleep in the bedroom my mom did as a kid. In my pink bedroom with a closet covered in pictures of cats (my mother’s choice)

If you thought my bedroom closet was different just wait until we go downstairs. For a majority of my life living in my house, our kitchen was covered with ivy wallpaper. The kitchen ceiling has a giant crack in it due to the fact that my little brother flooded the upstairs bathroom. The first day of school pictures in front of the front door and holiday pictures on the back patio is always a tradition.

Our basement was a place where many games from our imagination came true. I had my makeshift classroom and pretended I was a soccer star while kicking an exercise ball against the wall (sorry mom). Memories of my brother and I sneaking into the basement to watch re-runs of Jersey Shore even though we weren’t supposed to.

My house is filled with holiday traditions like, finding the pickle ornament on the Christmas tree on Christmas morning and searching for our Easter baskets that were hidden by the Easter bunny. Dad making us a big breakfast on holiday mornings that consist of fighting over the last piece of bacon and consuming way too many pancakes.

You can always walk through our front door and either here my brother yelling at his Xbox or my other brother singing as loud as he can from his bedroom or both at the same time. You can find all three kids snuggling into my mom’s bed even after she repeatedly told us to get out.

This place is where I grew up since the day I was born. The place I received many stern life lessons from my parents. The place where I was able to watch my brothers grow up. I can’t imagine living anywhere else than my little house on the end of the street.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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