There is a place in my life where I can go to be myself. A place that makes life seem easy. It’s a place where laughing can come just as easily as crying. This place is a place of comfort, and it’s full of life. There are quiet moments, intense moments, sleepy moments and angry moments. This special place for me would be my grandma’s house; it’s a secure haven to me.
This house is full of my families’ history. For example, when I was younger I was sitting outside and I decided to climb a tree. The best tree to climb at my grandmother’s house was the tall pine tree; it’s at the bottom of the hill in the back yard. I started to climb the tree, and when I reached my favorite spot to sit I started to look around. I turn my attention to the tree and see something scarred into it. There etched into the bark was my uncles’ name; along with my aunties, and as I continue to search, I saw my mothers’ name. Confused I start climbing down the tree to ask someone about it.
As I’m walking up the hill to ask my mother about the etching in the tree, I suddenly realized that I was not the only child to live in that house. I realized that when those marks were made in that tree, I wasn’t even alive yet. This surprised me, as well as fascinated me. The realization that I wasn’t the only child to walk around my grandmother’s yard hit me hard, but I also realized that I wouldn’t be the last.
My grandma’s house is the center of everything; where most my family grew up, so her house means a lot to me. That house is important to me because it keeps me connected with my family, and helps me maintain my culture. I’ve been taught so many lessons in that house; lessons about life, love, culture and who I am. The most important lesson I’ve been taught is to be myself. To be who I am on the inside, then it shouldn’t matter how I act on the outside because I am myself. That lesson will always stick out in my mind. It was one of the most important lessons I could have been taught in that house.
My grandmother’s house is my favorite place. It’s where I grew up, and it’s where I lived for thirteen years of my life. The five years I spent away from my grandmother’s house helped me understand that I needed a place full of family history and love. I needed that love and history to help me grow up. I am lucky to say that my secret haven; my quiet sanctuary is my grandmother’s house. I believe that my grandmother’s house the center of everything in my life.
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