I Don T Just Consider My House a Place Where I Lived, but More of a Place of Love

Mode Vignette (Genre) Media Paper- word document Audience Family Purpose Celebrate, remember, reflect Situation I started working on this piece after Chanda’s teaching demo, and have (Writer) revised it several times since then. Vocabulary, mechanics, appropriate discourse/mode of communication, S (Writing) language

Vignette Writing My House on Lansing Road

My house is not just a place where I lived, but more a place of love. It was small

and old, an eggshell color which in the winter always looked dirty compared to the white

snow around it. We had a screened in porch on the back, where I always remember my

mom’s beautiful plants growing as if that was their bedroom. With three bedrooms and

six people, everyone had to share a room. I was lucky enough to share with my older

sister, a complete slob. My house may have been small, but we welcomed everyone into

our home: friends, neighbors, family, strangers, or anyone who happened to stop by. Our

house was open to everyone.

Although it never had the nicest furniture, or new carpeting, or fresh paint on the

walls, everyone always seemed to gather in our living room. Our couch was mustard

yellow with holes in it, so that it looked like we were sitting on a strange block of cheese.

Fortunately, it was comfortable, and that's what counts, at least that's what my mom

always said. I remember sitting on it and the odor filling my nostrils with memories, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of the special times in our living room. Sitting on the couch with my grandma listening to stories she told about her childhood, spending time resting when I was sick covered up by “the special hugs” blanket my mom would lay over top of me, and time spent watching old family videos. It may not have been the cleanest house, especially because there were four kids running around, but that didn’t matter. Spending time with family and friends was more important than time spent cleaning another of my mom's favorite quotes.

Our kitchen table was definitely another gathering place; a place of laughter, cooking, eating and talking especially when my grandparents came over. I remember my

Nona would sit at the end of the table and tell stories as she mixed the oil and vinegar into our insalata. I would sit and stare at her hands for hours, at her perfectly filed almond shaped nails. She had the softest and most beautiful hands I had ever seen. She always had such a soft voice, her face would glow and sometimes her eyes would fill with tears as she told her stories. It may not have been the biggest kitchen, but it was big enough for all of us.

My house is no longer where I live, but it will always be where I grew up. It’s where my brothers, sister and I built forts in the backyard. It’s where my family cut and stacked wood in our woodshed that consumed a small portion of our backyard to heat our house through the frigid winters. It’s where I learned how to ride my bike and plant a garden with my mom. It's where my grandmother cooked and my whole family laughed and told stories. It’s no longer where I live, but it will always be a part of who I am. It’s where the memories from my childhood were created. This is why my house was more than a place where I lived; it was a place of love.